Summer at The Burrow
by readyslavery
Summary: Sometimes it takes blue skies and green grass to bring out the inevitable. Sometimes it takes a summer at The Burrow to bring out true love. [FredOC]
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Any characters, places etc. that you recognise belong to J K Rowling. I'm just a humble writer who likes to play around and write love stories._

**A/N: Hello, and welcome to _Summer at the Burrow. _This will be updated fairly quickly, so don't worry about waiting months and months, and I hope you think I do the Harry Potter universe justice. I can only try. Just so you know, this story takes place in the summer between _Prisoner of Azkaban_ and _Goblet of Fire. _**

IIIIIII

My welcome home from my stepmother was, rather surprisingly, being hit in the face.

I should perhaps mention that it was completely unintentional and that it had been more of my fault, swerving to avoid an oncoming Muggle pushing a large luggage trolley, and somehow managing to half-impale my face on the pointed edge of my stepmother's umbrella. But still, not the sort of welcome I expected.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she said cheerily, pulling me towards her by my shoulders and inspecting my face. "There's a bit of a mark, but it should fade in good time!"

I pulled myself away from her, rubbing the spot on my cheek - _really_, I could have lost the eye itself if she'd held it a bit higher - and grudgingly smiling myself. She had an infectious, often downright annoying happiness.

I turned to my father next, who was looking rather more weary and haggard since the last time I'd seen him. He had a stressful job in the Ministry as an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries, and so I had no idea what is was that could be causing him to seem so tired. When I caught his eye, though, he managed to break out in a smile, his green eyes lighting up.

"Claudia," he said, inclining his head. It wasn't usual for people in my family to show much physical affection - our bonds were formed in the smallest of ways; the wrinkling of a nose, the upturned corner of a mouth, a gesture of the hand. "All ready for the summer?"

"Almost," I admitted, turning to skim the crowds that were bustling around the train station. I had just come from platform 9¾ with my father (my stepmother was a Muggle and so couldn't come through herself). "I just have some goodbyes to say."

"Hurry it up then," my father sighed, used to this happening at the beginning of every summer.

Sure enough, in a matter of seconds Lee Jordan was hurrying out of platform 9¾, closely followed by Fred and George Weasley. I grinned, flicking a stray hair out of my eyes, and the three of them grinned back, nearing.

Before we go any further I'll clear up the bewildering mess that is my family; Lee Jordan's grandparents adopted my mother when she was seven, and so I am his adopted cousin. My mother died when I was three (it was upsetting, but I can't really remember her much) and my father married my stepmother, Catherine, three years later.

Catherine is a Muggle who's first marriage was to a wizard, so she's no stranger to magic. Her daughters from that marriage are two Muggle teenage girls, one fifteen and one seventeen, who are much less friendly than their mother and much less accepting of the wizarding world. They were stood with my stepmother at the station, shooting glares at me and my friends.

I didn't really look like any of my family there with me. My father had very light hair, and my stepfamily were of course born with different genetics and so there weren't any similarities really. Supposedly I took after my mother; thick brown hair, ever so slightly round face, one or two freckles and green-grey eyes.

"Miss Paisley," Lee said, gravely. "Are you trying to leave without saying goodbye?"

"That was my plan, but alas, you have foiled it," I said, solemnly, though I quickly hugged him in goodbye. He was a tall black boy, with long dreadlocks and a pair of glittering brown eyes. We had known each other since birth.

"Where are our hugs?" Fred and George asked in unison. I turned to them, raising my eyebrows. They were toned boys of my age, sixteen, and identical. Both had jaw-length red hair and green eyes; the easiest way to tell them apart was that a few strands of hair fell into Fred's eyes but not George's. Being friends with them for five years, however, had taught me to notice other little differences, so now I could tell them apart within a few seconds (or sooner, if I was in a particularly sharp mood).

I reached up and hugged the two of them, being the shortest of the four of us. Believe me, it had made me subject of quite some ridicule, despite the fact I stood at a respectable 5"7. I mean, I was hardly short, was I? Lanky bastards. They both raised a hand simultaneously and ruffled my hair - I ducked rather too late, ending up knocking into my oldest stepsister, Polly.

"Watch where you're going!" she snapped, shoving me away from her. Out of the corner of my eye I saw all three of the boys' bodies tense, eyes on the angry girl. She glared straight back at them.

"Polly, stop being so touchy," Catherine sighed at her daughter. "We have to be off now, Claudia, it'll be nice to hit the roads before rush hour."

"Right," I said, vaguely, still giving Polly my dirtiest of looks. Shaking my head slightly, I glanced back at my friends. "Have good summers, all of you. And write this time, won't you? You promised last summer and I didn't get a single owl."

Fred and George rolled their eyes but Lee said, sounding rather exasperated, "Of course we will!".

"See you then," I said, giving them all one last wave and turning on my heel, my family just behind me. I sensed Polly and her younger sister, Diane, scowling at my back, and found myself smiling. Things hadn't changed one bit.

IIIIIII

That night I lay in my bed, squinting through the darkness at the ceiling. It didn't feel right, being in this room to sleep. I missed my dormitory, even with the girls that I didn't feel comfortable around most of the time. I guess that's what comes from hanging around with boys constantly, but still, sometimes I wish that I could be my normal self around my dorm mates without feeling cynical every few minutes.

I wasn't what one would call a tomboy, but nor was I exactly the average girl. I wore skirts, sure, and the odd splash of makeup, but my life was in no way driven by boys (well, I guess it was, it just wasn't driven by the desire to _kiss_ boys). I'd had a boyfriend back in fourth year; I wasn't a complete novice. I just wasn't particularly bothered about it.

When I was younger - much, much younger, when my father had first married Catherine - Polly and I got on fairly well. We had one game where we'd be pretend to be princesses awaiting our princes. In fact, that was how we'd first fallen out, over who was the most beautiful princess. After she'd said something nasty about my hair I'd declared it was a stupid game and threw juice over her dress.

We hadn't spoken civilly since.

Aside from my oh-so-troubling family woes, I suppose it was a pattern for the rest of my life. I didn't believe in all that crap about true love. I believed in love, of course, and I thought that maybe one day I'd find it. But I didn't believe it was this huge life-affirming thing that made you incapable of going a day without your sweetheart.

Polly, on the other hand, stuck to that notion and went off in the different direction - trying out as many 'true loves' as possible in order to get the right one. It caused some concern for the family who were anxious that one day she'd just run off with a boy, but so far all it consisted of was a few sneaking outs at midnight.

I rolled over, nestling my head against the pillow. The night was warm and humid, causing me to kick my covers back and try to get cooler. Outside I could hear the distant rumble of a car, and an owl hooting from a nearby tree. I couldn't sleep at all. Stupid bird.

Just then the sounds of the front door slowly opening could be heard. I sat up, curious. The patter of feet on the staircase told me it was only Polly, wandering in from another boy. She was even _humming_. Scowling, I turned onto my other side and bade the world goodnight, squeezing my eyes shut and egging on sleep.

IIIIIIII

I lay on my front on the lawn, my chin rested in my hands. Three days into summer… it was so _boring_. I wished, not for the first time, I lived closer to my friends. But Lee lived in London, and the Weasleys in Devon - here I was, stuck in the rainy and muddy North. With a sigh, I rolled onto my back, watching the clouds drift aimlessly pass.

It wasn't that I had a horrible home life by any means. I wasn't close with any member of my family, but then again they weren't close with each other either. It was just that I missed the companionship so easy to find at Hogwarts.

Back in first year when I'd been tiny and geeky, the people kindest to me were Lee, Fred and George. They had an unmistakable air of naughtiness, even then, and it was an air they'd soon pass onto me as I spent more and more time under their influence. All three of them - but especially the twins - were brilliant at magic too, whilst I struggled behind with my average grades.

My fingers ran over the cool wood of my wand, tucked in my pocket. I missed doing magic though, missed the thrill of it. They couldn't detect that it was me doing magic if I did any now, surely? My father was on night shifts and so currently was fast asleep in bed, and this was his house. They'd think it was him.

I lifted it above my head, muttering a couple of words, and a few daisies pulled themselves out of the ground, dancing above my face. I giggled, as a passing bee, confused, tried to catch them. A cold voice cut through my happiness, making me start, sitting up and hastily pushing my wand back in my pocket.

"You're not supposed to be doing magic."

It was Diane. A year younger than me, she was a small and weedy girl with pale blonde hair and contrastingly dark brown eyes. Sometimes I felt rather sorry for her - Polly was constantly described as the beauty of the family, whilst Diane was just casually dismissed as being a sister. All my sympathy went, however, at her next words.

"I'm going to tell your dad that you've been practising your freak stuff again."

I stood now, much taller than her, looking down with my hands on my hips. "Oh, really? You really think he'll _care_? That 'freak stuff' you so eloquently described is as much a part of him as it is me."

"I'm not stupid enough to call it that in front of him," she snarled. "But you'll get in trouble. You did it before, ages ago. After your first year. He was mad then."

It was true, unfortunately. I had indeed cast a spell to levitate my dinner over to where I was sitting, and he was furious. _If you're not careful, you'll get expelled … you really think that I want a daughter who doesn't follow rules? … I work in the Ministry, I'm sure you didn't stop to think about how it would look if my very own flesh and blood broke the law …_ Dramatic git.

"I'm sixteen now," I said simply, brushing a few blades of grass from my dress. "And if you want to be the one to wake him up for such a thing, be my guest."

Her cheeks flushed. "No."

"Well then," I said brightly, tossing my hair over my shoulder and beaming. "There's not a problem then, is there?"

"Afternoon, Claudia, Diane," came a weary voice. I went still, and then turned, very slowly. My father was coming out of the house into the garden, a dressing gown on and a mug of coffee in his hands. Just my bloody luck.

"Dad!" I said, trying to sound cheery and innocent. "What are you doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep," he sighed, sitting himself at the garden table and running a hand over his tired face. "I don't fancy whipping up a sleeping potion either."

"_Claudia_ could make one for you," Diane said, sweetly, though her narrowed eyes were on me, glinting. I felt my cheeks go slightly pink.

"No, no," my dad said, looking surprised. "It's fine without one - I never get up for work that way. And besides, she can't do magic out of school."

Diane looked shocked, though I knew she was feigning it. "Really? But - but Claudia, you just told me you were sixteen and so allowed to do it."

My dad looked at me, suspicious now. I cleared my throat, trying my best not to hit my younger stepsister in her smirking face. "Er - no. No, you must have misheard me. I said seventeen."

Diane smiled wider. "Then why were you doing magic?"

I grimaced, closing my eyes instead of looking at my father. Why was I cursed with the most insufferable stepsisters in the world? They were just jealous, surely. I couldn't _wait_ to be seventeen…oh, the hexes they'd get…

"What's all this then?" my dad asked, voice quiet. I opened my eyes at last, meeting his. His face was emotionless. The calm before the storm.

"I - I only enchanted a couple of daisies to dance in the air," I muttered, pushing my hands in my pockets, fingertips brushing against the guilty wand. "I didn't do anything serious."

Then, to my enormous surprise - and judging by Diane's gasp, to hers too - my father, my constantly preoccupied father, tossed back his head and _laughed._ He was laughing at the fact I'd just broken the law! Dianne seemed to be struggling with herself, but managed to spit out impatiently, "What's funny? She's just done something wrong!".

"Honestly, if you were going to rebel against everything as usual, you could have done something more imaginative than dancing daisies," he chuckled. I blinked.

"Are you - er - are you alright, Dad?"

"Of course I am."

"But why aren't you lecturing me or yelling or confiscating my wand? You said you would _last_ time."

"Last time you were eleven," he said, still smiling, crow feet widening at the edges of his eyes. "When I was sixteen your mother and I were always doing underage magic, enchanting paper that would write out notes to each other from long distances."

I was smiling too now. I loved it when he spoke of my mother, he always got a softer expression, he always seemed more friendly. Diane, on the other hand, looked like she'd been mortally offended. "You did? I thought you were a good boy at school."

He waved his hand indifferently. "A good boy? I was never even made Prefect. I never broke the rules _that_ seriously, of course. I didn't get half as many detentions as you and your friends. No one was any the wiser though, they thought it was my parents casting spells."

I grinned, happily, glancing at the affronted Diane. "Something wrong?"

"No," she muttered, storming past the two of us into the house. My father watched her go, smile fading, concern spreading over his face in the form of a frown. I strode to his side, feeling safer now that I knew he wasn't going to murder me.

"Are you and the girls still arguing? I would have thought after ten years you'd at least be slightly fond of one another."

"It's not my fault!" I protested, knowing that he often thought that I was the troublesome one. "They hate me, they hate that I can do magic. I never start the arguments, honestly."

He raised an eyebrow. "What about yesterday when you teased Polly because her boyfriend split up with her?"

"Well - well - she'd been making stupid comments about my friends just before you walked in!"

"I see," he sighed, running a hand through his greying hair. "Listen, I need you to do all you can to make friends with the girls. For me. I'm going to be working a lot soon, there's a new project starting at work, and I'm relying on you to keep the house in order."

"What about Catherine?" I asked, more surprised that I was being given the responsibility rather than that he was going to be working even harder.

"Well, of course. But she works too, doesn't she? When it's just you girls here, I need you to make sure you all get on well."

"Try telling them to leave off me," I murmured sulkily, but at an exasperated look from my father, I sighed. "Fine. I'll try. Just bare in mind I might not succeed."

The last week of June was the hottest yet, giving Polly an excuse (though there was no excuse, not really) to trot around in skimpier clothes than ever. I bit my tongue whenever I saw her, however, trying my hardest to keep my promise to my father. Besides, there were other things to distract me.

Lee had written, even if the letter had been short and holding barely any news - all I found out was that he was going away to Japan for the summer with his parents. Fred and George, on the other hand hadn't sent a thing. I had half considered being the first to write, but that would be my dignity gone. I'd be, once more, labelled the typical girl who can't spend a few weeks without friends. I'd given up hope that they'd remember me.

So it was with some surprise that the Weasley family owl, Errol, landed (or, more accurately fell) into my toast two days before the end of July. Ignoring Polly and Diane's scandalised looks, I carefully laid the unconscious bird on the table and eagerly ripped open the letter.

_Dear Claudia,_

_Here it is, the spectacular and epic moment - we're doing what you told us to do! We're committing quill to parchment and it's the school holidays! Alas, the world shall explode any day now._

_Now. What to say, what to say? Life here is the same as normal, if a bit boring, the only reason we've resorted to letter-writing. We've been working on our joke products with order forms and everything. It's getting close to actual work. How disheartening s that?_

_Are your sisters treating you any better? You know we have no reservations in hexing girls who deserve it (you'd know, harhar). Next time one of them says anything, remember to clench your fist properly. Don't want to hurt a knuckle now, do we._

_We would say we missed you and your attempts at witticisms, but that would make us girls like you and so no luck there, mate. Hope you're well and that it's nice up there on the silly side of the country._

_Lots of love,_

_Fred and George_

_P.S. Mum and Dad say you can stay over at ours for July and August. Basically the rest of the holiday. We'll Floo over 1__st__ July regardless of your answer, of course._

"Yes!" I cried, punching the air with my fist. Catherine, from the top of the table, looked up from her newspaper.

"Yes what?"

"Fred and George have invited me over to theirs for the summer," I grinned, brandishing the letter. "They're coming to pick me up on July 1st. Thank goodness, I thought I'd go out my mind with boredom."

Catherine smiled. "Well then, you had better get your things packed! We don't want a mad rush that morning, do we?"

"I'll go pack now." I stood up, pushing my chair under the table and making to rush away. However, Polly spoke before I could, sounding outraged.

"Mum, that's not fair! Last year you wouldn't let _me_ stay at Jamie's for the summer! How come she's allowed?"

"Well, Jamie was your boyfriend, wasn't he? I didn't know his family at all. Whereas Claudia is just staying at her friends' house, and we know the Weasleys well. I trust them."

Polly stood up, slamming down a hand on the table. "Mum, that's completely unfair and you know it! Just because she's a witch, she gets everything!"

"That has nothing to do with it," Catherine said calmly, flicking through her paper.

"Yes it has! It's horrible. Your supposed to be _my_ mother, not hers. You should stand up for _me_."

"Honestly Polly," her mother said, now sounding rather impatient. "She's your sister. Stop being jealous."

"She's not my sister. She's a freak," Polly snapped, and swept from the room, taking care to push past me as I went. I followed her into the hall, grabbing her arm and pushing her against the wall. Her eyes went wide and she struggled, but I ignored it.

"Don't you _dare_ call me a freak," I growled. I hated her, I hated her perfect face and figure, I hated her icy tones, I hated that she hated me.

"Let go of me!" she said shrilly. "You're such a boy!"

I let go of her, then shoved her back onto the wall. She hit her head slightly, but I hardly cared. Anger was coursing through me and I was having to flex my fingers to stop them going around her neck.

"You uncontrollable manly fre-"

I couldn't help it. I turned around and slapped her across the cheek. She gave me one last look of deepest loathing through her bright blue eyes, before knocking me out the way and running upstairs. I watched her go, breathing heavily, hand stinging slightly.

I'd never slapped somebody before, least of all a member of my family. But this was one time too many, being called a freak, being disliked for no reason than who I was born as…

I sighed heavily, wistfully, and charged off to send my reply to the twins. At least it seemed this summer wasn't going to be a _complete_ nightmare.

IIIIIII

**A/N: I really hope you liked the beginning of the story. Please review? -puppy eyes- I'd love to know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: Any characters, places etc. that you recognise belong to J K Rowling. I'm just a humble writer who likes to play around and write love stories._

**A/N: Hope you enjoy this chapter, and please review!**

IIIIIII

1st July came round the corner quickly, much to my relief. I couldn't _wait_ to get to The Burrow. It was a lovely place, it always felt welcoming, as did the people there. The long, languid days of summer had been plain and bland without my best friends (I felt a pang of guilt that Lee wouldn't be there, but hey, he was on holiday, the lucky sod).

In summers before I'd spent a week or so at The Burrow. Mr and Mrs Weasley always seemed happy to have me round, even if I caused them even more trouble than normal. In fact, they were surprisingly good-natured, even letting me sleep in Fred and George's room, knowing that it'd suit us better than me sleeping in Ginny's.

Ginny and I got on okay, even if we didn't really speak much. The twins tended to shut her out whenever she tried to join in with them. Ron, their other younger sibling, and I were friendly, but once more Fred and George appeared to find his presence annoying.

As for the older brothers, Percy and I didn't really talk - we were rather at odds, perhaps just because I was friends with the twins, whom he despaired about constantly. Charlie was extremely friendly, though I hadn't seen him for a year or two, and Bill, whom I only met twice, was just as nice. I often found myself wishing for siblings like Fred and George's. They were luckier than they knew.

Polly had, surprisingly, not told anybody about the slap. Instead it seemed she was choosing to completely ignore my presence and pretend I didn't exist, which suited me perfectly. My father had consented to me going to stay with the Weasleys and had made a special effort not to go to bed for the morning. We all sat in the living room, awaiting their arrival.

Diane looked almost excited at the prospect of magic, though tried to hide it behind a haughty façade. Poll1y, on the other hand, looked anxious, standing at the doorway, eyes darting between me and the fireplace. My father and stepmother were on the settee, perfectly at ease. I stood nervously next to the fireplace, all the possibilities of them not turning up running through my head.

"I'm going to get a drink," I murmured once the clock struck ten. They said they'd come sometime after ten, so I left my family watching out for them whilst I hurried into the kitchen. A glass of water later, I made to walk out, but Polly rushed in, blonde hair dancing behind her. I stared at her.

"Claudia, I have a favour to ask you," she said, in a whisper, clasping her hands together. I raised my eyebrows and folded my arms, though I couldn't help a spark of curiosity lighting inside.

"What sort of favour?"

"Will you - will you introduce me to your friends, properly?"

"I - you - why?"

She let out a long, heavy sigh, blue eyes rolling. "They're so good-looking. Don't you think?"

"You _fancy them_!" I yelled triumphantly, bursting into laughter. I clutched the sideboard, doubled over with mirth. I couldn't believe it! Perfect Polly, hater of anybody different to herself, fancied my best and very different-to-her friends! It was almost as though she were playing a prank, but I knew that far below her intelligence.

"Shut up!" she hissed, cheeks crimson. "I can't - I can't really help it - I mean -"

"I never thought you'd fancy _freaks_."

"Look, you shut up, alright? Will you introduce me to them or not?"

"Well." I hastily regained my composure, inspecting my fingernails and leaning against the sideboard. "What would I get in return?"

"You'd avoid a slap, that's what," she growled, still flushed.

"Oh really? And you think you'll get close enough to slap me?"

"What're you going to do, curse me?" she sneered.

"Yes."

"You wouldn't _dare_!"

"Try me!"

"That'd break one of your freak rules, cursing me! I am a '_Muggle_', after all."

"You're not," I smirked. "You're not good enough. You're more of a freak than I am."

She let out a cry of anger and ran towards me, hand outstretched to hit me. Unfortunately for her, but very fortunately for me, two people entered the room and stared at us. Polly spun round immediately to the intruders, before going - if possible - even redder. Ha. Tomato face.

"Is there a problem?" George Weasley asked, whilst his brother Fred wore a matching expression of suspicion. Their eyes flicked between us girls, taking in my cool demeanour and Polly's red face.

"No," she said shrilly. "No problem at all. I was saying goodbye."

"Ah yes," I said brightly, slinging a patronising arm around her shoulders. "About to give me a goodbye punch, weren't you, dear Polly?"

"N-no," she stuttered, ducking from my arm. "Of c-course not…"

I beamed at her, which she returned with a filthy look. Fred and George began to snigger and I smiled at them appreciatively. It was going to be good to watch her be scorned - for once - by boys she liked.

"Well, Polly dearest, I had better be off. Have a _lovely_ summer."

"Don't take that patronising tone with me," she snapped, folding her arms. "Have a lovely summer yourself, whoring over your friends."

I bristled instantly, and made to move towards her but George quickly took my arm to restrain me, whilst Fred whispered in my ear "let me deal with it" and walked up to her. Her expression was hopeful and somewhat smug when he reached her - I knew just what she was thinking. She was thinking my friend had abandoned me for her. I smirked.

"Goodbye Polly," Fred said solemnly, holding out a hand for her to shake. "I hope we meet again soon."

"Me too," she giggled, taking his hand. She shook it for a split second before her reactions kicked in and she jumped about a foot in the air. Her hair was standing on end, her eyes were wide and she was holding her hand with the other, whimpering. Fred grinned, coming back to George and I, who released me.

"George and I have been working on these for ages. You know those Muggle prank things, when you shake someone's hand it gives them an 'electric shock'?"

I nodded, inspecting his hand. Sure enough, a small tablet sized thing was stuck onto his palm. He carried on enthusiastically. "Well, it gave us an idea. We reckoned we could do it for wizards and witches too. It's not that 'electric' crap they use; it's magic that replicates it. I think it's still a bit strong though," he added anxiously, peering at Polly, who had tears in her eyes.

"Who cares?" I asked, before feeling a bit ruthless and cruel. "I mean - Polly, are you alright?"

I walked over to her, but she backed away, still nursing her shocked hand. "You'll pay for this," she spat, glaring at me and then at the twins. "All of you, you'll all pay."

With that she swept dramatically out of the kitchen and into the hall, off to her bedroom or wherever else. I sighed and put the back of my hand to my forehead woefully. "See what you've saved me from?"

George laughed. "Yes, we are saviours of damsels in distress."

"Her? A damsel?" Fred asked, aghast. I slapped him on the arm, scowling, and so he quickly amended his question. "I mean - er - yes. Damsel in distress, perfectly damsel-like."

"Let's just go say goodbye," I sighed, exasperated, and strolling back to the front room. My father, Catherine and Diane were all stood by the fireplace now, ready to say goodbye. Catherine frowned slightly.

"Where did Polly run off to?"

"Sulking as usual," I said airily.

"Claudia, I thought you were making a special effort to be nice to her?" my dad asked, disappointment in his every word. I flushed, feeling guiltier than ever. However, George and Fred both began explaining that she'd been taunting me and they'd pulled a prank on her so it was really all their fault.

"Very well," my father sighed, smiling at me to show that he no longer blamed me. "I see that you boys are still living for your mischief."

"As if it would be any other way, Mr Paisley," exclaimed Fred, looking mortally offended. "You shouldn't underestimate us, look how we've corrupted your daughter."

"Claudia didn't need corrupting," my father replied warmly. He had always liked the twins, and trusted their family impeccably. "She was trouble from the day she was born. She always cried as a baby."

Over the noises of the boys' '_awww_!'s I let out an indignant growl. My father grinned and soon I was smiling back. I glanced at my youngest stepsister, ruffling her hair. She looked disgruntled, and my smile widened.

"See you, Diane," I said, and to my surprise she smiled a little and whispered 'goodbye'. My stepmother gave me a brisk and happy farewell, and my father followed suit. Once satisfied I'd said all the goodbyes I could (there was no way I'd say goodbye to Polly), I grabbed my luggage that was waiting patiently by the fireplace.

"I'll take that," Fred said, scooping it from my hands. George threw some Floo powder into the fire for him and in a second Fred was gone. George followed his twin, giving one last wave to my family. I took a handful of the powder next.

"See you all soon then! Have nice summers!" I beamed at the three of them, happy to be getting away. I scattered the powder onto the fire, stepped in and yelled "The Burrow!". In a second I was away, bursting out of a fireplace onto a worn rug. I straightened up and looked around, a feeling of being home running through me.

The Burrow was as it always had been. It was a cluttered, brilliant place, with all sorts of little things scattered here and there to surprise me. The familiar clock was on the wall, showing where all the Weasleys were. On the opposite wall sat a large portrait of them all; Bill and Charlie grinning and waving, Mr Weasley and Percy talking, Mrs Weasley straightening down a disgruntled Ginny's robes, Ron rubbing his nose and Fred and George whispering and smirking, pointing at Percy.

"Claudia!" came a female voice, and I glanced over at the sink. Mrs Weasley was washing the pots using waves of her wand, but she'd stopped to walk over to me. "Dear, I swear you look older every time I see you."

"That'd be because she is older, Mum," Fred grinned from where he was sweeping ash from the rug with his feet.

"You know what I meant," Mrs Weasley sighed, exasperated, before smiling at me once more. "You're looking more like a woman every day, I should say then."

"Thanks, Mrs Weasley."

"Are you hungry?"

"No, I'm alright. D'you need any help with anything?"

"No dear, but thank you. Now, I was wondering about sleeping arrangements this summer. I know you're getting older and that sharing with two boys might be uncomfortable for you, and Ginny will be more than happy to have you share with her if you like."

I smirked ever so slightly as I answered, glancing at Fred and George. "Don't worry about me, Mrs Weasley. I don't feel uncomfortable around those two, I don't mind sharing with them. Unless they feel uncomfortable around me?"

"Us? Uncomfortable around girls?" they scoffed together, looking horrified at the very thought.

"It will happen someday," said Mrs Weasley wisely, returning to the dishes. They wore matching expressions of disgust, and I laughed. They looked incredulous, and Mrs Weasley cast a glance over her shoulder at the two of them. "You two can help Claudia bring her things up to your room."

"Yes, Ma'am," smirked George, lifting my trunk with the air of one doing something immensely heroic, whilst Fred and I followed behind. We went up the first staircase, and when we reached the top, George cursed quietly and dropped the trunk onto the floor. He looked at us, sternly. "Alright, one of you two can carry this now, my back is killing."

"Weakling." Fred winked at me, lifting it. Then, he too swore, as he began on the second flight of stairs. "Honestly, Claudia, what've you packed in here? A hippogriff?"

"_Weakling_," I responded mockingly, pushing him in the back so he stumbled a little on his way up the stairs, and cursed once more. I laughed, pushing past him, and ran up the last few stairs to the second floor corridor. Off it were two doors, one leading, I knew, to the twins' room, and one to Percy's room.

Behind me, Fred managed to finally haul the trunk up the last few steps, and leant against it for a moment, breathing heavily and wiping his forehead dramatically. I smiled wickedly at he and his twin, who joined us a second later, picking up the handle of the trunk and pulling it behind me as I lead the way into their room.

The bedroom was second largest in the house, second only to Mr and Mrs Weasley's, and as I entered I could smell the unmistakable scent of gunpowder. The walls were decorated a violent orange, covered in several photographs and posters. There were two beds, back to back, for the twins, and a hastily set up camp bed for myself. One side of the room was filled with several drawers and chests, which I guessed to be full of the twins' mischief-assisting possessions.

"Don't mind the smell," George laughed, as the two of them entered the room and looked around it, seeming proud. "Our last experiment went really wrong and we've not been able to clear the air without getting Mum suspicious."

"Experiment?" I asked, curiously, throwing myself down on the nearest bed and looking at them questioningly. They shared a secretive look, both looking thoughtful and somewhat mistrusting. I rolled my eyes, too used to their mysterious behaviour and their silent communications to be concerned.

"George, do you think we can trust her?"

"I'm not sure. She might sell us out to our mother."

"Ah, yes. That would be a terrible risk to take. I'm not sure it's worth it."

"I'm afraid I agree. Sorry, Claudia, but that's top secret information."

I sighed heavily at their jokes and got off the bed, noticing that when they had been speaking their eyes had flicked towards a rather plain looking, large box at the other side of the room. I went across to it, extremely interested at what it was they were so protective over, and opened the box. I heard both of their mocking gasps of horror and they made their way over too, standing behind me.

In the box was a large stack of what appeared to be order forms, and many strange looking sweets, fireworks and other assorted, strange items. In one corner, a banner was folded up, which I picked up cautiously to see it read 'Weasleys; Wizards Wheezes'. I pushed it back in the box and stared up at the twins with raised eyebrows. "What the hell is all this?"

"Well, Miss Paisley," Fred said, with the air of one being extremely professional, and, oddly enough, resembling his brother Percy. "That is our new business venture. George and I have decided on our paths in life."

"And that involves…?" I prompted, nonplussed.

"That involves jokes, pranks and competing with Zonko's," George finished, looking proud. I stood, slowly, staring at the two of them to see if they were being sincere. When I decided that they actually were, I couldn't help but laugh incredulously. They both looked a little hurt, so I elaborated.

"I'm sorry but you actually plan to live your lives selling pranks?" I giggled, but my laughter soon faded away when they both simply looked back at me. "What - you actually _are_?"

"It's as noble a profession as any!" Fred sniffed, seeming stung. "We've got big plans. All we need is some real gold and we're away."

When I still look sceptical, they proceed to empty the contents of the box on the floor and show me their plans and ideas. Though I was loathe to admit it, I had to say most of them were rather ingenious. In fact, it seemed so much more than a little dream and aspiration, but it actually seemed _possible_.

"You know, though I hate to say it," I said, finally, once all of it was packed away and we were all standing once more, the twins looking proud, "I reckon you two might just pull it off. You're both mad, evidently, but it might actually work."

"We knew you'd come round!" Fred beamed, sharing a thrilled look with George.

"We were thinking you might want to be involved yourself," George said lightly, and I raised an eyebrow. "Well, we're going to need all the help we can get - we don't expect you to help financially, so you can stop looking like that - and well, we trust you and Lee more than anyone, so yeah, if you're up for it…"

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm hardly the best at magic in the world, am I?" I wrinkled my nose. Though not appalling, I got average grades only with hard work, whilst if the twins actually tried they were brilliant.

"No, you're not," smirked Fred, ruffling my hair, at which I scowled and crossed my arms over my chest. "But you can charm customers into buying our goods! Well, once they're fully developed and tested, that is."

"I'm sure you can find someone more charming then me," I snickered, though at the same time I felt inordinately pleased, at which they both agreed pleasantly and I had to kick both of them hard in the shins before feeling justice had been served.

IIIIIII

Dinner at The Burrow was always absolutely delicious, and that evening's meal was no different. We sat around the kitchen table, all eight of us - Mr and Mrs Weasley, Fred and George, Ron, Ginny, Percy and I - eating the gorgeous food cooked by Mrs Weasley, who simply smiled modestly at our compliments.

Ginny was quite sweet at twelve, with very long red hair and large brown eyes. Ron's bright hair reached around his ears, and at fourteen he was already taller than me. Percy sat straight backed and was only marginally conversational when the topic of work was bought up, staring sternly over his glasses whenever Fred and George seemed to be rather suspiciously laughing (which was, I admit, rather often).

"Claudia," Percy asked, pointedly ignoring the twins, who were muttering to each other, smirking, and looking at him. "What do you intend to do once you've finished Hogwarts, out of interest?"

"Er -" I paused, fork halfway up to my mouth, a little wrong footed. If truth be told, I had absolutely no idea what I wanted to do for a job, I hadn't even thought of it. "Um, I guess I might go into the -" Fred kicked me sharply under the table, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him looking at me significantly. Resisting rolling my eyes, I went on. "I guess I might go into the joke shop business."

Fred beamed from my side, and Percy's eyebrows rose, whilst Mrs Weasley spluttered on the roast potatoes she'd been eating. She looked between me and the twins, her face rather stunned. "Really? You want to - to go into the joke shop business? Why?"

"I - er -" I looked at the twins for assistance, seeing as Fred was the one who silently made me lie like this, but they were busy snorting into their dinners. "Well, I thought I might use my - er - talents to - er - make the world a - um - funnier place."

"I think you've been spending too much time with my brothers," sniffed Percy haughtily, and I let out a laugh. It was true, after all. I had no inclination to go into a joke shop after school and I think most of the table knew it. Ron, however, looked rather interested

"You want to make a joke shop?" he asked, seeming deeply impressed. "That'd be wicked."

I assumed from this comment that even the twins' siblings knew nothing of their ideas. Now completely in over my head, I replied wildly. "Yeah, I - um - always thought it would, myself. I think I'll make a - er - chain of stores around England."

"Business property costs an awful lot these days," smiled Mr Weasley, with a glance at the laughing twins. "Where would you get your start-up funds?"

I tapped my nose secretively, and most of the Weasley's laughed, soon in conversation about their days and such. Fred and George, however, didn't join in, whispering about something or other. I poked the nearest, Fred, on the shoulder, and the two of them turned to me, beaming.

"You know," George began, enthusiastically, "if you actually are interested at all, you could always work with Fred and I. For real."

"We've been through this," I smiled, a little sadly. "I'm no good at helping you create things, I'd just be useless."

"If we do get premises," Fred said, quietly to ensure his family didn't hear, "you could work there with us. You don't need to be good at inventing to help run a shop, do you?"

"I guess not," I admitted, mulling the thought over in my mind. Perhaps it would be a good idea. I could work in their shop, if it really happened, and it could just be a filler job before I found my real calling in life. I smiled, cheerily. "Well, maybe. Anyway, we have two years before we finish school."

"Yeah, and it'll take us more than two years to raise all the money," George laughed, though there was some sincerity in his statement. Whilst my family was hardly rich, the Weasleys were relatively poor, and I felt a pang of guilt whenever money was mentioned. If anybody deserved heaps of gold, it was them.

Mrs Weasley stood then, and began clearing the plates, and Ginny jumped up to help her. In a matter of minutes, a thick gateau was laid in front of us for pudding, and we tucked in eagerly. Mrs Weasley was the best cook I knew, and that was saying something - after all, I'd attended countless Hogwarts' feasts.

IIIIIII

That night, after bidding goodbye to everybody, the twins and I retired to their bedroom. I lay in the small, set-up bed, nestled comfortably under the covers, and having a whispered conversation with them both about what we could do that summer.

It felt wonderful, being here, being in this room with my best friends. It was second only to Hogwarts in my favourite places of the world. I couldn't describe it, it was just the sort of place I wish I'd grown up in. It was cheery and cosy and quite simply lovely.

It felt like home.

"You had better not snore, Claudia," came Fred's stern voice, breaking through my happy thoughts. "Last time I woke up thinking that the sky was falling, all the noise you were making."

IIIIIIII

**A/N: Once again, hope you enjoyed it - and I'll enjoy it if you review. xD**


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: Any characters, places etc. that you recognise belong to J K Rowling. I'm just a humble writer who likes to play around and write love stories._

**A/N: Thanks very much to my reviewers so far!**

IIIIIII

"Come back here, you arse!" I yelled, tearing down the stairs after George, who had decided most unwisely to steal my bloody _bra_ and go parading it about, waving it around his head and laughing. "You're like a five year old! You _git_, give it me back!"

He cut through the sitting room, where an exasperated Mrs Weasley sat, knitting, and I followed him through to the kitchen. He was quicker than me and darted outside, where it was dazzlingly bright and sunny, but I had nothing on my mind but getting my rather personal possession back and murdering George Weasley.

We tore across the large lawn, through the open field, towards the broom shed, where Fred was talking to (and most likely teasing) Ron. They both looked up as we ran towards them, and George threw his twin my bra, laughing and yelling "Run with it, run!"

Fred examined it, and I sprinted up to him, ready to tackle him to the ground for it, but instead I was rather relieved that he didn't seem intent on running. He stared at it, holding it at arm's length, and threw it back to me. I caught it, my eyebrows raising at his reaction.

"Thank you," I smiled, though felt a little uncertain, knowing there was probably another prank involved.

"Oh, you idiot!" George sighed, looking thoroughly disappointed. "Why d'you do that?"

Fred smirked wickedly, staring at me. "I didn't want to touch a girl's _bra_. I might catch something, yuck."

"Oh, very funny," I replied, dryly, and turned on my heel, marching back towards the house. As I did so I glanced over my shoulder, to glare at one of the twins in particular. "And don't think you've got away with this, George. I'm going to murder you later, don't you worry."

IIIIIII

I stood in the kitchen with Mrs Weasley, helping her prepare lunch for the day, feeling very comfortable and at home. Mrs Weasley was somewhat a mystery to me - she had so many children and pressures and responsibility, but she managed to be a lovely, if slightly fussy, woman with time to spare for even her children's friends. She was wonderful.

"Your father was alright with you staying here, wasn't he, dear?" she enquired, waving her wand to slice a loaf of bread. I looked up from where I had been slicing cucumber to answer, smiling a little at her concern.

"He was fine with it. He was just saying the other day he needs to invite you and Mr Weasley around for dinner sometime, as it's been too long since he's properly seen the both of you."

"Oh, that's very sweet of him," she beamed, beginning to butter the sliced bread. "I'll get Arthur to talk to him at work and arrange something."

"I'm sure Dad and Carol will be thrilled," I grinned, piling the fillings onto the buttered bread whilst Mrs Weasley reached into the cupboard for enough plates. My father and Carol were very good friends with a lot of wizarding families, and often had them round for dinner. My dad seemed to get on with everybody, even some more, well, _sinister_ families, such as the Malfoys.

"I'll go and see where Ginny and Ron have got to," Mrs Weasley stated, laying down each plate onto the kitchen table. "Would you mind fetching the twins for me, dear?"

"Of course not," I said, quickly, and made my way out into the garden. I hadn't spoken to George once since the bra incident, as was my duty and right as a woman, but it wouldn't do to displease Mrs Weasley, and so I had to go and see him.

They were both messing around on their broomsticks, throwing apples at one another from the large apple trees that hung over one side of the garden. Upon seeing me, they promptly threw them in my direction, but they didn't even nearly reached me. I supposed they didn't want to tempt my anger anymore, because when they wanted to be, they were bloody good shots.

"Fred," I shouted, haughtily, not looking at George once. He circled lower on his broomstick, flying rather too close to me for my liking and ruffling my hair. I scowled, sidestepping him as he tried to do it again.

"What, you want a ride, Paisley?" he asked, jokingly. I raised my eyebrows at this. Everyone present knew I'd never, ever go on a broomstick again, after the infamous Broomstick Disaster of 1989 (our first year flying lesson, in which I managed to knock Madam Hooch into the rest of the class, soar thirty feet in the air and then promptly crash into the lake).

"Actually," I sniffed, "your mother wants you and your _twin_ in, as lunch is ready."

"Oh, come off it," George laughed incredulously, landing perfectly by my side. "You're not still mad at me, are you?"

"I shall see you inside, Fred," I said, coolly, and stalked back to the house before he could see the grin breaking across my face. I was far too used to their jokes and childish sense of humour to really be mad. In fact, I'd had much worse done to me than having my bra stolen, but let's not go there.

Once back in the kitchen, I settled myself next to Ron and tucked into my sandwich. He and his little sister were already at the table, and Mrs Weasley entered a moment later and ate with us as well. Fred and George arrived soon enough, me swiftly kicking George under the table, and he throwing a slice of cucumber at me.

"George!" Mrs Weasley scolded. "Please, have some manners."

"But she kicked me!"

"I did not!" I retorted, glaring at him as though offended by the accusation. Mrs Weasley merely sighed in an exasperated way, and when George looked outraged that I'd gotten away with it, I stuck my tongue out at him.

"What's everyone doing for the rest of the day?" Ginny piped up, looking at her brothers and me. "I'm really bored."

"George, Claudia and I are going to do some flying," Fred smiled, sweetly, glancing at me. I raised an eyebrow, wondering just how serious he was being.

"Can I join in?" Ron asked quickly. The twins both shook their heads and he sat back, looking sulky. I sighed, brushing the crumbs from my hands onto the plate and standing.

"You can have my place, Ron, because I'm _not_ flying," I smiled at him, walking round to the sink and rinsing my plate under the tap. "And thanks Mrs Weasley, that was really nice."

"No problem, dear, I - goodness, who are they for?" she exclaimed suddenly, and we all turned to see what she was looking at. Through the open window we could see three owls soaring towards the house, each with a letter clasped in its beak. "Oh, it might be your O.W.L. results!"

I dropped the plate into a sink with a loud clatter, but it didn't break the horror I was currently feeling. I had done terribly, I was sure, and I quickly backed away from the window as the three owls flew in and landed neatly, one by each of the twins and I. We stared at them, and I chanced a glance at my friends to see them looking, actually, slightly nervous.

"Don't murder us, okay, Mum?" Fred asked, laughing slightly, though there was an underlying anxiety in his tone. She simply made a shushing noise and motioned to the owls, gesturing for us to hurry up. Swallowing heavily, I untied my letter and ripped it open, not giving myself a chance to hesitate. The owl flew off, though I only vaguely noticed.

Pulling the letter from the envelope, I examined the contents, holding my breath.

_Ancient Runes - O_

_Astronomy - A_

_Care of Magical Creatures - A_

_Charms - E_

_Defence Against the Dark Arts - A_

_Herbology - E_

_History of Magic - P_

_Potions - A_

_Transfiguration - A_

After reading over my results for the second time, I let out a long breath, breaking out into a grin. I'd done it! I'd passed my exams, and much better than I'd hoped for! Well, I had failed History of Magic, but I hardly cared. And an O in Ancient Runes! It had been my favourite subject, but I never knew I was _that_ good.

I handed my results quickly over to Mrs Weasley, who read them and congratulated me heartily. We all then turned to Fred and George, who were muttering to one another, but fell silent as everyone's gaze fell on them. With a quick glance at one another, they stood up. George stretching and saying, "Well, Fred and I best be getting on with our fly --"

"Just you two wait a moment," Mrs Weasley said, standing up and walking over to them. "How did your OWLs go? What have you got?"

Fred mumbled something under his breath, and George looked down at the floor. Mrs Weasley asked, sharply, "_What_?"

"Well, we - er - we passed Transfiguration, Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Got As in Charms and Defence, and an E in Transfiguration."

"You - you mean, you failed everything else?" Mrs Weasley asked, in a very, very weak voice. George took one quick look at Fred, and then nodded, hesitantly.

There was a moment's silence.

Then the shouting began.

Whilst Mrs Weasley screamed and shouted at her two bright red sons, Ginny, Ron and I quickly scooted out into the garden, feeling awkward and a little embarrassed for Fred and George. Then again, I myself was quite unnerved that I'd gotten better results than them. They were _fantastic_ at magic.

"How did they only get three OWLs?" Ron asked, looking stunned. Ginny shrugged, and we made our way through the garden, the two of them leading us towards the broom shed. I couldn't help but feel, despite my slight disappointment in them, well, sorry for my friends, back there being yelled at for something that couldn't be changed.

We reached the broom shed and Ron withdrew his own, battered looking broomstick, whilst Ginny craftily grabbed one of the twins' brooms. Ron took out another broom, offering it to me, but I shook my head. The din from the kitchen seemed to have died down somewhat, so I smiled apologetically, grateful for the excuse.

"I think I'll go and see how those two are," I grinned, backing away and walking back towards the house. "You two have fun flying, though."

"See you later," Ginny called, waving. I smiled, and entered the kitchen a moment later. George was the only one there, scrubbing the breakfast dishes and looking thoroughly disgruntled. He looked up as I walked towards him, and stuck his tongue out at me.

"Honestly," he laughed, glancing over to where my results lay on the kitchen table. "Who would have thought that _you'd_ get good grades? When's the apocalypse?"

"Ha ha," I said, dryly, flicking his nose. He swiped my head with a hand covered in soap suds and I pulled a face. "So, three OWLs, eh? I know that your mother doesn't, um, think that particularly good, but are you pleased?"

He shrugged, absentmindedly clicking his tongue. "You know that Fred and I really don't care about our education. So long as we passed some lessons, enough to stay on for the next two years, we're fine."

"Fair enough," I smiled, running a hand through my hair. "So, why are you cleaning up? I never thought I'd see the day."

"Mum made me," he muttered, darkly. "She's escorted Fred upstairs to clean our room - ha, he got the worst job - and she said we're going to be 'having a talk' with her and Dad tonight when he gets home."

I groaned sympathetically, rolling my eyes. "I'll go up and ensure Fred isn't beheaded, or suffocating underneath the tides of mess, shall I?"

"If you want," George said, non-committingly, turning back to the sink. "Just make sure you avoid Mum, she's on the warpath now."

I grinned, waved goodbye and made my way out of the kitchen. As I reached the doorway, he called after me, "Oh, and Claudia?"

I turned questioningly, to see him smiling. "Well done on your results."

"Cheers," I grinned. "And you."

I heard him laughing as I exited, taking the stairs two at a time onto the first floor. Mr and Mrs Weasley's room was on this floor, and as I passed the open door Mrs Weasley bustled out. She stopped when she saw me, smiling. "Sorry, dear, I thought you were George. Well done on your results, again."

"Thanks," I grinned, thankful she wasn't mad at me for letting the twins do so badly. I think I'm just going to write a letter to my family and tell them."

"Okay," she smiled, turning back into her room. "Make sure Fred's actually cleaning, won't you?"

"'Course," I laughed, and made my way up the next flight of stairs. I passed Percy's room (he was at work) and pushed open the door to the twins room, smirking. Fred was looking even more annoyed than George had, and was attempting to hang some clothes up in their shared wardrobe, but simply creasing everything in the process.

Rolling my eyes, I went over to him and took the pair of trousers he was attempting to straighten out of his hands. He stuck his tongue out at me as I hung them up, shaking my head. "I hope you're not planning to live alone at any time. This is basic stuff, you know, hanging clothes up."

"Don't worry," he winked. "I'm planning to marry someone who will do it for me."

I shoved him in the shoulder, scowling playfully. "You realise that's really sexist, don't you? You're not going to meet a woman who's willing to clean up after you all day whilst you go around _pranking_ or whatever."

"I'll find her, I'm sure," he beamed, confidently, before looking at me with an expression I'd grown used to recognising as his 'I Have A Great Idea' look. Naturally, my eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why don't _you_ marry me? You can do my cleaning, I can do my joke shop."

"Oh, shut it," I groaned, pushing him again. "I'm most likely never going to get married, let alone to _you_, simply to do your _cleaning_. Honestly."

He chuckled, then turned and busied himself with folding up some t-shirts that had previously been crumpled on the floor. "Why d'you think you'll never be married?"

I shrugged, picking up one of the t-shirts and helping him. "I dunno really. I just can't imagine it happening. I'm hardly the dating sort, let alone the marrying sort, am I? I don't think I even want to."

"Not the dating sort?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. "You were the dating sort with Diggory."

"Oh, for goodness -" I drew up short, closing my eyes and silently praying for patience. When I opened them again it was to see him grinning wickedly at me. "Will you and George _ever_ forget that?"

"Why should we?" Fred retorted, grinning wider. "Unless you regret it?"

"Of course I don't," I sighed, exasperated. "But we were in second year! It meant nothing! It only lasted a couple of months, we were really young, and we're just good friends now. You two are the only ones who still care about it."

"Yeah, 'just good friends' is exactly what you are, what with the flirty looks you send back and forth whenever you're together." He rolled his eyes, and I scowled. It was a complete exaggeration - yes, Cedric Diggory and I _had_ gone out, but we'd only been thirteen and it consisted of nothing more than hand holding and the odd stolen kiss. Never mind that he may have grown into the most handsome boy in the year, we were just friends.

"He's a nice guy!" I tried to protest, but he simply raised his eyebrows at this. "Oh, shut up, he is. Just because he beat you at Quidditch, it doesn't mean you need to be nasty about him all the time."

"Maybe I'm just really protective over you and my bitterness has nothing to do with Quidditch," he said, casually, opening his chest of drawers to put the folded t-shirts in. I stared at him, suspiciously, and when he looked up at met my eye he winked. "What, you think I'm being serious?"

"Oh, of course not," I lied quickly, running a hand through my dark hair. "As if you'd ever be so considerate."

"Precisely," he grinned, before faltering. "Wait, that's not a very nice thing to say, is it?"

I smiled winningly, and he shook his head, evidently exasperated. Just as he made to speak, to most likely mock me in some way, the door flew open and George ran in, looking rather disturbed. I stared at him, a little alarmed.

"Doom! Doom is upon us," he moaned, collapsing face first onto his bed, and saying, into his pillow, "She wants me to help her plant _pansies_ in the garden!"

IIIIIII

After sending off the Weasley's family owl to my father (having no owl of my own, or, in fact, any pet), I settled down at five o'clock to play a game of Exploding Snap with Ron. The twins were upstairs, doing whatever it is they liked to do with spare times (I guessed developing new pranks, myself), and seeing as I had great luck when it came to this game I agreed cheerfully to play it with the younger boy.

We sat in the kitchen, playing it on the table, whilst Ginny watched (having announced she would play the winner) and Mrs Weasley bustled around us, cleaning and preparing the dinner. Just as one of the cards exploded, in Ron's hand, and I burst into laughter, the door swung open from the outside. I looked up, to see Percy and Mr Weasley come in from work.

"Good evening everyone," Mr Weasley smiled wearily, settling himself down at the table next to Ron, who was sucking the side of his hand. I guess the explosion must have hurt a little. Percy inclined his head at all of us and sat by me, casting a curious look at Ron who was cursing under his breath.

"What's wrong with you, Ron?" Mr Weasley asked, after he had kissed Mrs Weasley on the cheek as she placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. I smirked, as Ron went red, slowly lowering his hand from his mouth.

"Exploding Snap," he said, motioning to the cards.

"Claudia thrashed him," Ginny giggled, and I laughed. There was no way to really win the game strategically, but I had a trick or two that I'd learned from the twins over the years. Percy sniffed, almost disapprovingly, and then glanced at Mrs Weasley.

"What's for dinner tonight, Mother?"

"It will be done in a moment, we're having Shepard's pie and potato. Ron, could you clear away the cards, please? And Ginny, could you set the table?"

The two stood up to obey, but not without some sulkiness, and I stood too. "D'you want me to get the twins down?"

"Yes please, dear," Mrs Weasley smiled, beginning to pile out the food onto the waiting plates. I saluted them all and made my way up to the second floor, humming to myself as I did so. For what seemed like the hundredth time, I found myself wishing my family was a bit more like this one. I even had some fondness for Percy, despite the disagreements we often had.

As I neared the twins room, I could hear them muttering to one another. Not wanting to be called an eavesdropper if they found out, but wanting to know what they were discussing in such urgent tones, I slowed down dramatically, listening hard.

"You don't understand, though," Fred was saying, sounding petulant.

"'Course I do, I'm not thick," George replied, exasperated. "I reckon you should just say something and get it out the way. What's the worse that could happen?"

"Hmm, let's think," Fred replied, voice smothered in sarcasm. "She could never talk to me again?"

Feeling extremely curious, but realising I was being a bit of a terrible friend by listening, I opened the door, trying to make my face as impassive as possible. They were both sat on their beds, George looking sympathetic, and Fred looking moody and somewhat confused. They looked up sharply as I entered, both sharing a panicked look. Perhaps my impassiveness wasn't believable after all.

"Did you - er - did you hear what we were saying?" George asked cautiously, as Fred sent him a scandalised look and hit him on the back of the head. Trying to seem innocent, I shook my head, scratching my nose.

"Which obviously means you did," Fred sighed, standing up and scowling.

"I mean - well, yeah," I admitted awkwardly, before hastily adding. "Only by accident. Who d'you not want to tell what about?"

Fred blinked, before smiling slightly. "You know, that made no discernable sense, but me being a genius, I think I get it."

"Well, good," I replied, grinning back, albeit tentatively. I had no idea _what_ could make him be in such a foul mood, especially with his twin. "So…?"

"I put a curse on Ginny so that if she looks into a mirror she'll see Ron as her reflection," he shrugged, as George began to snigger mischievously. "I heard her telling Mum about it, and if Mum finds out about it, I'll be murdered. I wondered if coming clean to Ginny might make her not tell Mum about it."

"Oh," I laughed, relief coming into me that it was something so trivial. "I dunno what you should do, hopefully it will wear off?"

"Yeah, I hope so," he shrugged, yawning and stretching. "So, what was it you came up here and intruded for, eh?"

"Oh!" I said suddenly, having quite forgotten the reason I'd come in the first place. "I was sent up to tell you dinner's ready. So, yeah. Dinner's ready."

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" George demanded, and the two of them pushed past me out into the corridor. I sighed at their lack of manners, but couldn't help but notice the look George sent Fred, full of meaning that I couldn't quite decipher, and the way Fred's face fell into lines of moodiness once more, as we made our way down to dinner.

IIIIIII

As I helped Ginny clear away the plates that night, I noticed that she glanced at the mirror nailed next to the sink, inspecting her reflection for a brief moment. Though most could see it as a natural movement, I assumed she was checking to see if she still looked like Ron to only her eyes, and so leant over to her, whispering, "Is the curse off yet?"

"The what?" she asked, raising her red eyebrows. I shot a look at the rest of the family, who were all talking and oblivious to us, and went on.

"Well, you know, you look like Ron in the mirror?"

"I - sorry?" she asked, plainly confused. "I dunno what you're on about."

"Oh - er - never mind then, one of Fred and George's pranks," I said, forcing out a laugh, before shooting another look at the pair of them. The joke hadn't even been funny, Fred was evidently losing his touch.

It was only as I rinsed the first plate underneath the tap that it struck me.

Something else he needed to tell someone, supposedly female, was getting him down - something that he couldn't even tell me. I glanced at him, feeling a mixture of confusion and hurt, before heaving a great sigh and getting on with cleaning the dishes.

IIIIIII

**A/N: Hope you liked it! Please review. **


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: Any characters, places etc. that you recognise belong to J K Rowling. I'm just a humble writer who likes to play around and write love stories._

**A/N: I'm so glad people are enjoying this story and reviewing. You people, quite simply, rock.**

IIIIIII

I decided, perhaps wisely, not to mention to the twins that I knew they'd lied. Even though I felt a little wounded at not being trusted to know what they were talking about, it was up to them to tell me when they were ready, and me pushing them wouldn't do anybody any good.

Ginny kept casting me curious looks, which I attributed to my odd questions about the mirrors. Three days had past since then, and I felt rather proud of myself for not bringing up the subject with the twins, both of whom seemed to have returned to normal. Or, well, as normal as they ever were.

Which wasn't exactly very normal.

We now sat outside ( the twins and I, that is), talking, and occasionally throwing an apple at each other from the nearby tree. I was just about as good as it as I was with flying, meaning that more that once I lunged backwards dramatically to catch it, and more than once hit one of them in the face with my wild throws. They realised after a while _not _to throw it to me, and excluded me from the game.

They then decided, unceremoniously, to exclude me from the conversation as well by talking about their plans for joke products. Whilst I was up for a good prank as much as the next person, their talking of their plans over and over again did get somewhat tiresome.

Humming to myself, I lay on my back, hoping to feel content with watching the clouds go past. To my annoyance, there was a perfectly blue sky. Sitting up, I swung my hair out of my face, picking a daffodil from the grass and throwing it (rather perfectly, if I do say so myself) into Fred's face.

He and George looked at me, exasperated, and I sighed heavily. "I'm _bored_. You invited me here, it's your job to make sure I'm entertained."

When they merely stared at me, I clapped my hands bossily. "Get to it, then. Entertainment. Now."

"Sorry, I'm not in the mood for strip teasing today," Fred yawned, standing up. I smirked, and clambered to my feet, George doing the same beside us. "However, if you want to play catch - without smacking us in the face - I'm willing."

"Sure," I grinned, jogging backwards to get a good distance from them. They shared a look, sniggering, and spaced themselves out, George tossing an apple up and catching it. He threw it to his twin, who caught it smoothly, in turn throwing it at me.

Determined to prove to them, and myself, that I could in fact catch, I ran sideways wildly, and only just managed to catch it with by the tips of my fingers, falling onto the grass as I did so. Somewhat smugly, I stood, lobbing it back at George, who caught it easily.

The game went on for fifteen minutes or so, as I gradually got better and better, before my throw went a pathetic distance, landing about five feet away from me. George laughed, ran forward to pick the apple up and threw it - bloody _hard_ - back at me. The small gap between us and my slow reflexes meant that my hands didn't exactly catch it.

My face did, though.

"Shit," I muttered, staggering back, as the twins let out a much worse expletive in unison. My vision swam for a few seconds, as I blinked back the water rising in my eyes, and as I blinked in shock. Gingerly, I raised my hands to my nose, finding it painful and for some reason rather wet.

Fred reached me first, the blood having drained from his face, causing his freckles to be even more pronounced. His mouth hung slightly open as he stared at me, before he shook himself and raised a tentative hand to my face. His fingers making contact with my nose made me squeak with pain and back away - but the sight of blood on his withdrawing hand made me freeze.

"Oh _God_," I mumbled, feeling nausea rise up in my. Whilst hardly girlish and squeamish about most things - I'd face spiders, standing in front of a large group of people and small spaces gladly - but when it came to heights, and blood, I was a complete and utter wimp.

"Look, don't panic, Claudia," Fred said slowly, biting his lip and wincing at his own words. I let out another terrified squeak, going rather light-headed. He blanched - evidently his words weren't having the effect he'd intended them to. "Look, no. It's just. It's just a bit of blood, okay?"

"No, it's not okay!" I said, shrilly, feeling the blood drip down onto my lips, and spitting it out violently. George reached us then, looking horror-struck. Fred hit him, hard, on the upside of the head, scowling, but George just stared at my nose.

"It was only an apple!" he exclaimed, sounding almost impressed. "Who knew I was such a bloody good shot?"

"Shut up, George!" I screeched, taking a moment to be alarmed by this new pitch of voice - I hoped it wouldn't stick - before all thoughts were replaced by _blood, blood, blood and doom! _"Just - oh god, it's - it's just a bruise, right?"

"Well, does it feel broken?" Fred asked, looking concerned. I stared at him in horror, mouth falling open.

"Oh God, my nose is broken!" I cried, clutching at it and trying to ignore the horrible feeling of the blood against my skin. "George, you bastard, you broke my nose!"

"I didn't!" he retorted, taking a step back from me, just in case. "You wouldn't have thought it was broken if Fred didn't ask about it!"

"You _broke_ my _nose_!" I exclaimed indignantly, ignoring him. As I pulled my hands from my face and saw the red on them - darker than I expected, stickier - the dizziness took over and I staggered over a little. Fred was quick on his feet, and quickly grabbed my arm, steadying me.

As he half-carried me towards the house, I gave George my filthiest look, that told him in a second he had earned himself a slow and painful death, and there was nothing he could do about it.

IIIIIII

"It's broken, isn't it?" I whimpered, wincing as the cold flannel was pressed against my nose. Mrs Weasley smiled, in a tired sort of way, and shook her head, a few strands of her red hair falling into her freckled, friendly face.

"Of course not, dear, it would be much more painful if it was. You've just got a nosebleed, and a bit of a bruise, but I can get rid of that in a moment."

"You're sure?" I pressed, anxiously. "It looks broken. Fred, it's broken, isn't it? You said it was."

"No, I didn't," he said from my side. Rather predictably, yet still annoyingly, his concern had passed into sheer amusement, and he seemed to be struggling to keep a straight face as he answered me. "It looks fine. It was wonky anyway, wasn't it?"

I swiped at him, but he ducked, easily, unable to keep the laughter in. Mrs Weasley, now siphoning off the blood from my face with her wand, sighed and sent him a disapproving frown. "Fred, really, it's not funny. George could have really hurt her. What were you doing, throwing apples in each other's faces?"

"S'not my fault Claudia can't catch," came George's huffy voice from the sink, where he was being made to wash up, _again_, as punishment for hurting me. "I threw it fine, she's just incapable of --"

"Shut up," I moaned, grimacing as a thick, orange paste was dabbed onto my nose by Mrs Weasley. "You're a monster, you've scarred me for life. Is my nose really wonky?"

"Of course not," Mrs Weasley replied, absentmindedly, before taking a step back and admiring her work. "There. Good as new. It doesn't hurt anymore, does it, dear?"

Slowly, a pressed the tip of my nose with a finger, desperately relieved to feel it back to normal. Grinning, I shook my head. "Thanks. I dunno what I would've done without you, Mrs Weasley."

She smiled at me, and I turned to glare at George, ready to rip him to pieces, when the door slammed open and none other than Percy ran in. His hat was askew atop his red hair, his glasses lopsided, his cheeks red, breathless, and he had large beam across his face. We all raised our eyebrows, as stopped short, breathing heavily and smiling widely at us all.

"I've been given a really good job! I've been promoted!" he said excitedly, and I saw Fred and George share a look. "Mr Crouch's assistant! Can you believe it? I'm fresh out of school - that's a really good job! _Mr Crouch_?"

"Mr Crouch being Barty Crouch?" I asked, interested. He turned to me, nodding, evidently eager for some kind of recognition. "Oh, my dad sometimes has him round for dinner. Isn't he the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation?"

"Yes!" Percy enthused, his face lit up and his tone bright. "Isn't he wonderful?"

Seeing Fred and George share another, smirking look, I faltered. I wouldn't describe the man as exactly wonderful - he'd always seemed normal, if a bit boring, to me - but I couldn't quite bear to let the excited boy down. "Er - yeah, yeah he's - um - he's pretty wonderful, I guess."

"I'm glad you agree!" he laughed, then turned and kissed his mother on the cheek hurriedly. "I had better get back, I'm sure Mr Crouch wants to give me an assignment - I just _had_ to rush home and tell you all!"

"I'm very proud, dear," Mrs Weasley smiled, and she looked it, too. "We'll have a nice dinner for celebration. But you get back to the office, you don't want to keep Mr Crouch waiting."

"No, of course not," he said quickly, seeming to almost skip out of the door. "Goodbye!"

"Oh, I'll have to go and write to Bill and Charlie, he's so pleased," Mrs Weasley sighed, fondly, and left the kitchen, her footsteps soon to be heard heading up to her room. I turned to talk to the twins, but they were already muttering in the corner.

I raised an eyebrow, wondering if they were going to be all secretive again, before they murmured one last thing each, then grinned at me. Upon me narrowing my eyes suspiciously, Fred cleared his throat, somewhat pompously.

"We have a plan!" he announced triumphantly. "It'll cheer you up, honestly. It's just, we need you, or it won't work. It'll be fun, I swear."

Sighing, exasperated, my hands materialised to my hips. "And what will it involve, exactly?"

IIIIIII

The dinner was, as usual, filling and scrumptious. We were eating fairly early, at five o'clock, for Percy said he just _had_ to go and get his first report done. It was due in in a month, but I guessed he planned to get it in to Mr Crouch within the week. A large, congratulatory banner had been spread above the table, and a feeling of cheeriness was upon the family.

I, however, was feeling far from cheery, regretting my agreement to the twins very much. As usual, I was to be used as a decoy in their pranks, and I was most definitely not looking forward to it. For one thing, I had no idea what I was going to do.

When, at half past five, Percy stood up, thanked his mother and left to do his work, Fred and George sent me meaningful looks, and the three of us stood up. A little sulky at what I had to do, I spared a glare at the two of them, before smiling at the rest of the Weasleys. We excused ourselves from the table, and made our way up to the second floor.

"Right," Fred whispered, once we were in the safety of their room. "You go and do whatever it is you have to do to keep him preoccupied, and we'll get going."

He and George picked up their 'goods' and rushed over to the window, which they opened, inspecting the side of the house. I bit my lip, feeling more than a little anxious. "I - what if you fall? Be careful, won't you?"

They simply rolled their eyes, and slowly lowered themselves out of the window, resting their feet - I assumed - on bricks that stood out of the house. I rushed over to the window, glaring at them both. I could barely dare to look how far up we were, even from inside the house. "If you both fall and die, how am I supposed to explain it to your family?"

"I dunno," George laughed, not sounding worried in the slightest.

"Why can't you just use broomsticks? And why d'you need me - can't you just get Percy to close his curtains?"

George rolled his eyes. "We've been through this! To get the broomsticks we'll have to go outside, and everyone will see us doing so, and Percy'll still hear the noise, so we need you to distract him. Okay?"

"Fine," I gave in, but then bit my lip as they started to move. "Oh, don't. You'll fall!"

"Oh, Juliet," Fred laughed, as I leant out of the window to ensure they weren't about to topple to their deaths, my head just higher than theirs. "We'll be fine, honestly."

"Juliet?" I echoed, raising my eyebrows. "How d'you know Shakespeare?"

He merely smirked, and I sighed. To my complete and utter surprise, he leant up, kissed my cheek and grinned. "Your Romeos shall be fine, I promise."

Feeling my cheeks go a little pink, I cleared my throat. "Just be careful, alright?"

Fred nodded, then - making my heart almost still - he seemed to lose his balance and wobble dangerously, almost plummeting into the garden below. I let out a little scream, reaching out for him, but then I realised he was _laughing_ and my cheeks flooded red.

"You idiot!" I yelled, absolutely fuming. "That wasn't funny! I thought - I thought -"

"Shh," George scolded, looking rather irritated at us both. "When you two have quite finished, we have a Percy to prank."

"Yes, Sir," Fred laughed, moving along the wall carefully. Our eyes met, and he smiled, a little more softly. "Off you go then, Miss Paisley. It's distraction time."

I groaned, but obidediently walked away from the window towards the door, but made sure to shout "Be _careful_!" as I did so. Shutting the door behind me, I hurried along to Percy's door, which I knocked on a couple of times, feeling moody. I heard him call for me to come in, and so did so, closing the door behind me quietly.

Percy's room was a little smaller than the twins', and conversely very neat. He stood up from his desk as I entered, looking extremely surprised, and raised his eyebrows, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Claudia! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Behind him, I could see the twins at the window, setting up the prank and grinning at me. My job was to keep Percy's attention away from them, and so I smiled warmly at him. "I just wanted to congratulate you again."

"That's very kind of you," he remarked, sounding surprised. I frowned for a moment - was there something surprising about me being nice? "Well then, thank you."

"It's alright," I smiled, before realising that I'd already run out of things to say. By the look of it, Fred and George weren't even nearly done. "So, er, Mr Crouch then! How did you get a job with him?"

Much to my relief, he launched into an enthusiastic description of his new boss, and his new job, leaving me to block it out and make sure the twins weren't falling to their deaths. I felt like _I _was out there, standing so high up, the way my heart was beating as I watched them.

After a minute or two, Percy finally finished his rant, and smiled, seemingly with a finality. Evidently, he had no idea why I still stood in his room. With a glance at Fred and George, who seemed to be arguing about something now, I smiled at their older brother, clutching at straws. "I - er - what report are you writing then?"

"A preliminary piece on the relationship between Britain and America, and the illegal trading that sometimes happens," he explained, and I nodded, trying to seem enthralled. "I mean, I'm sure it sounds very boring to you -"

"Oh no!" I said, loudly, as he turned to glance at his papers. "No, it's - it's fascinating, really. Do tell me more."

Taken aback, he did so, and I glared at Fred and George around his back. Fred winked at me, and mouthed 'two seconds!'. Percy finished once more, and drew himself up, smiling at me in a rather bemused manner.

"Well, I had best be getting on with --"

"No!" I cried, as he turned around. He glanced at me, alarmed, and I noticed Fred and George motioning for me to keep him distracted. Racking my brains in a split second, I lunged forward wildly and kissed _Percy Weasley_ on the lips. He let out a small noise, most likely of terror, and I pulled back, wiping my mouth and wincing.

He had gone bright red and stared at me as though I'd gone mad. Fred and George were also staring at the pair of us, open mouthed, their expressions a mix of outrage and shock. Then, as I made a wild gesture with my hand to get them to hurry, they did so - edging away from Percy's window and assumedly towards their own.

"I - er - well done on the promotion then!" I laughed - a nervous, almost hysterical laugh - and ran all the way out of the room and into the twins (but not before dropping the small prank 'accessory' in Percy's bedroom, as the finishing touch). They hoisted themselves into the room, and stared at me in silence.

I pushed my hands into my pockets, feeling my cheeks go warm, and scuffed the worn carpet with the toe of my shoe. When no one spoke, I sighed heavily, and looked up at them both. "So, you managed to set it up?"

"You kissed Percy," Fred said, rather unnecessarily, I thought.

"Well." I gave a small, nervous laugh again, regretting kissing him already. "Yeah, it was pretty gross. But I had to buy you time somehow."

"Not like that you didn't," George said, bluntly. "You could've hit him instead."

"Oh, very practical," I snapped, now thoroughly ashamed and so lashing out in the process. "What's the big deal? It worked, didn't it? He didn't see you two!"

"You kissed _Percy_!" Fred said again, having gone a rather odd colour, not quite red but not quite purple either. I stared at him, before George spoke again, making me glare at him instead.

"Not a big deal? Of course it was! It was ridiculous!"

"Fine!" I shouted. Admittedly, I was acting rather dramatic, but at the same time they were acting like I'd killed somebody. The kiss had been quick, clumsy, and merely a distraction for _them_. I didn't understand why on earth they were taking it so badly, and not teasing me. "Fine, we'll, next time you need a bloody _decoy_ you can ask someone else!"

I turned on my heel and slammed out of the room, ignoring whatever it was they were shouting after me. I also ignored the angry noises coming from Percy's room as I passed it - evidently the prank was in motion - and instead stormed down the stairs, into the living room, and throwing myself into an empty chair.

Mr and Mrs Weasley, Ron and Ginny all looked at me from their own seats (they had been talking among themselves, with the radio on), and each of them raised their eyebrows. I smiled, albeit sheepishly, and shrugged. "Those twins!"

IIIIIII

I lay on the sofa, drowsy and very close to sleep, the rest of the family having gone to bed and the twins not having shown their faces yet. Percy had ran down about five minutes after me, showing that the prank had indeed worked. I had dropped a small capsule Fred and George had been developing, that heated up the room it was dropped in. When Percy had opened the window to let in the cool evening, dung bombs had been arranged to fall upon him, dousing him.

He hadn't been entertained.

It also seemed he suspected my part in it. Though he hadn't said anything outright, he'd merely told his parents what he suspected the twins of doing, shot me a rather dirty look, and had gone upstairs for a bath. It had been rather hard to keep an innocent face, especially when Ron and Ginny were sniggering loudly.

Now, however, I was being resolute and not going to my normal bed - Fred and George would be in there, the ungrateful sods, and I didn't want to be in a room with them before they apologised. Nestling into the settee, I sighed lightly. The room was warm … the sofa cosy … my eyelids extremely heavy …

Polly was stood before me, laughing manically, and in her hand was the Sorting Hat. Out of it she pulled Dumbledore, who beamed cheerily at me, took the Sorting Hat and pulled from it a legion of squirrels, who leapt upon me and bit me wherever they could, squeaking absolutely terrifying squeaks …

"Wake up!" came an urgent voice from somewhere above me, making the squirrels scatter and reality somehow coming back into my life. I blinked, blearily, and found myself gazing up into the face of Fred Weasley. He smirked as he saw me, his red hair tousled - evidently he, too, had just woken up.

I sat up, yawning, and ran a tired hand over my face. Fred had on his red dressing gown over his pyjamas, and was blinking sleepily, though stared at me, a single eyebrow raised. "Bad dreams, eh? You were muttering in your sleep."

Remembering the squirrels, and how pathetic it would seem if I told him, I simply nodded, trying to seem sincere, and even throwing in a scared-looking pout. "Yeah, yeah, it was terrible. Horrific."

He patted my shoulder sympathetically. "Know how that is."

I grinned, having successfully lied my way out of that one, and yawned again. He studied me for a moment, before asking, tentatively, "You're still mad at us, then?"

"Um." I tried to remember why I would be mad at them, then remembered their overreaction to my 'distractions' earlier, and shrugged. "Nah, not really. You're not still mad at me, are you?"

"Nah," he mocked my phrasing, a wicked glint in his eye. "You're free to snog Percy any time you like."

"Shut up," I mumbled, going red. "I didn't want to, I was doing it to save you two, in case you'd forgotten."

"Don't worry about it," he said, bracingly clapping me on the shoulder. "Anyway, I just woke up - it's about half two, if you want to know - and realised you still hadn't come up. Thought I ought to get you to bed, you don't want to be all achy in the morning, do you?"

Rather touched at his sentiments, and feeling myself going even more red, I responded with rather pathetic humour, by pushing him in the side, winking, and asking, "You want to get me to bed, eh?"

He laughed, quietly, and I stood up from the settee, stretching. He smiled at me, and we made our way out of the room and up to his. Rather ruining the sweet and friendly air, however, Fred grinned at me as we walked up the stairs. "You know, you have _awful_ hair when you've just woken up."

IIIIIII

**A/N: Just so you know, there's no actual romance brewing between Percy and Claudia. There'd be no chemistry there at all, heh. Oh, and please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: Any characters, places etc. that you recognise belong to J K Rowling. I'm just a humble writer who likes to play around and write love stories._

**A/N: Aw, thanks so much for all your reviews so far! You're too kind. Hope you like this chapter!**

IIIIIII

The third week of July came with a surprising downpour of rain. It somewhat limited what we could do for fun, as before the majority of our time was spent outdoors. It led to tempers being lost easily, as we were all cooped up together in the house, but at the same time I found myself getting to know Ron and Ginny better, which was nice.

When you spend weeks on end with a particular family, you get to fit in so well it's almost as though you're one of them. It was the same with me and the Weasleys. I fit snugly into the order of things, determining, for instance, who's turn it was to wash the dishes, where to sit at the table, and what time you were expected to be awake by.

I also was getting used to quirks of various family members. I'd long known the twins were grouchy in the morning, but some new things were coming out. Ron, it seemed, was horrified at any talk of girls and romance; Percy was remarkably kind to insects and animals (I learned this when he took care to ensure a spider inside the house wasn't crushed, by taking it out into the garden carefully); Mrs Weasley tended to spoil her daughter more than her sons; Mr Weasley had an odd habit of tapping melodically on the table; Ginny played with her hair so much it almost drove me to ripping it out.

All in all, though, I found myself liking the Weasleys so much I felt guilty to my own family. They were like the nice siblings I'd never had, the fussing mother and caring father I'd never had. My own home was far from being all doom, gloom and abuse, but for some reason I felt better at The Burrow. I made sure to write to my father and Catherine every few days to fight away my guilt.

Finally, on the Thursday of the third week of July, the rain cleared. I found this out, unfortunately, by having a bucket of ice cold water dumped over my head. I sat up, gasping, the icy sensation running down my body. When I had spluttered and muttered for a good minute or two, I pushed my sopping wet hair from my eyes, and found myself looking up into the grinning faces of Fred and George.

"What - the - hell?" I choked, shivering and crawling out of bed.

"Come on, get dressed, there's no rain!" Fred said, quickly and excitedly. "Come on! Fresh air! Broomsticks!"

"Piss off," I grumbled, looking down at myself despairingly. The water had caused my usually baggy purple pyjamas to cling to my body, and I crossed my arms somewhat self-consciously. "Do you two have a death wish or something? Why couldn't you have just woken me up without the water?"

"It's more fun that way," George grinned, evidently thrilled at my anger. "Look on the bright side, you don't need a shower now!"

"Hooray," I mumbled, horribly aware of how revealing my top was, now it was stuck to my body. I looked up and met Fred's gaze - unlike his twin, he was not smiling, but instead merely had his eyebrows raised. I felt my cheeks go pink, for no reason I could fathom, and turned away. "Can you both bugger off while I get dressed, please?"

"What, we're lecherous now, are we?" Fred laughed, lavishly looking me up and down. I scowled, feeling rather uncomfortable about the mocking. Upon seeing my face, however, he sighed heavily. "Fine. Evidently Georgie-boy and I aren't trustworthy."

"No, you're not," I said, shortly, and they seemed to get the message, and left. Once the door was shut behind the two of them, I uncrossed my arms and ran my hands over my face in an attempt to wake myself up more thoroughly. My mind was sleep-clogged and, now I was rather damp and cold, to top it all off.

As I shook my head, spraying water from my hair all over the room, I found myself thinking upon my friendship with the twins. I had always got on better with boys than girls, but they had an odd way of making me both comfortable and uncomfortable. Then again, if anyone else but Fred, George or Lee had made a joke and had looked at me so unabashedly as Fred had just done, I'd probably have punched them in the face.

So why was it different with them? Why hadn't I felt defensive and violated with Fred? I guess I'd known him too long to take him seriously. We were best friends, me and the twins and Lee, and I couldn't really imagine it any other way. Other possibilities were too weird and unsettling to even consider.

A few minutes later I was washed and dressed for the day, and entered the kitchen to find only Fred and George in there. According to my watch it was ten o'clock, so I assumed everyone else was out making the most of the sunny day. They looked up from where they were sitting, waiting, and stood up, smiling.

"What did you have planned for today then?" I asked, dully, dreading their answer of 'flying'. I didn't fancy being left to my own devices again (it usually involved me sat upon the grass and watching them fly, which wasn't exactly interesting). Seeing George's eyes straying to the fields outside, I added sharply, "If you two are going on your brooms I may as well Floo home."

"Party pooper," George groaned, and I stuck my tongue out at him.

"Actually," Fred laughed, stretching luxuriously. "We were thinking about going into the town - you know, Ottery St. Catchpole? - and go to the little shop there. We're running low on our supplies of sweets, after all. Muggle ones, that is."

Surprised, but pleasantly so, I smiled. "That sounds good. I've never been before."

"Goody," Fred smiled, and we made our way out of the house. As we passed through the large front yard towards the gate, I noticed that Mrs Weasley was gardening. As we walked by her, she looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun with a hand.

"Don't go getting into fights with any more Muggles, will you?" she asked, sternly.

"As if we would!" George scoffed, though smiled at Fred and I.

"Hm," she sighed, suspiciously. "I'm going to give the bedrooms a bit of a spring clean, so I'll do yours first. It's bound to be the worst."

"Alright," they said together, shrugging, and we carried on, through the gate. The trip into the town, I'd been told, would take about twenty minutes, and we walked the first five at a leisurely pace, in silence. However, as we went on our relatively short journey, a sudden thought struck me.

"Doesn't Cedric Diggory live in Ottery St. Catchpole?" I asked, glancing sideways to see their reactions. Predictably, they shared a dark look, and I resisted shouting at them both with some difficulty. It was madness how awkward they were with him. He was a perfectly pleasant boy, and really hadn't _meant_ to offend them by dating me and beating Gryffindor at Quidditch.

"No, he doesn't," George sighed, and I was pretty sure that Fred muttered "Thank _goodness_", but when I glared at him accusingly, he simply smiled brightly at me. "He lives a couple of miles out of it."

"Oh right," I sighed, wondering how far I could push it before they'd snap, and deciding to find out. "That's a pity. I'd like to have seen him. He's so nice, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he's bloody marvellous," Fred murmured, shooting daggers at me from his sharp glare. "Let's all give three cheers to how _perfect_ Diggory is, shall we?"

"What's he ever done wrong?" I asked, raising my eyebrows at how angry he was getting. Fred and George shared another look, and I frowned. Their hate seemed genuine and passionate. "Come off it, you two. He's a nice guy, all taunting aside. He's never done a single thing -"

"Of course he hasn't," George snorted, deservedly. "That's the _problem_, isn't it? He's just perfect. I always thought that award would go to Percy, but he's not all charming and popular, is he? You can't fault Cedric and it's bloody annoying."

I blinked, rather surprised. To my alarm, I understood where he was coming from. There were girls at school who were pretty, polite and popular - and I found myself disliking them for only that. I guessed I'd never really considered boys thought about things in the same way.

"Go on then," Fred said, watching me closely for my reaction. "Tell us how he doesn't deserve to be disliked for that."

"Well," I said, slowly, frowning. "Well, no, he doesn't. But I understand why you feel like that. I'm the same way with some of the girls at school."

"You do?" George asked, gasping theatrically. "And here we were, thinking you were good and gracious and loved everybody!"

"Ho, ho," I murmured, dryly. "Yes, I love everyone at school. I'm so popular it hurts."

"Yeah, I bet you loved that Yvonne Parkinson when you broke her nose," Fred smirked, eyes twinkling, and I couldn't help but smile. Yvonne and her younger sister, Pansy, had been smoking on the school grounds, and the older Slytherin had the _cheek_ to flick her cigarette on me, burning my arm. I'd asked her to apologise, she hadn't, and I lost my temper.

Her nose was corrected eventually, of course.

"That was such a good day," George sighed, staring dreamily into the distance. "Who knew you had it in you?"

"Just because I'm a girl it doesn't mean I can't hit anyone," I sniffed, though felt rather proud. I wasn't usually a violent person at all - my fear of blood somewhat hindered me - but I was in a bad mood anyway and just couldn't help it. The smirking cow deserved it.

We were on the outskirts of the town now, only having to walk over a small river (using a bridge, of course), to reach it. Fred and George bounded over it cheerfully, but I took my time, observing the rushing water as I walked over it. Where I lived, there wasn't really a lot of country side, and I thoroughly enjoyed seeing some.

As I leant over the bridge, having sworn I'd seen a dragonfly, two hands grabbed me by the shoulders. They pushed me forwards quite violently, then dragged me back, and I heard a laughing, male voice say "Saved your life!"

Fuming, I spun around, my cheeks bright red (and my heart beating rather fast), to find myself glaring up into the handsome face of Cedric Diggory. Immediately my anger was lost, and I went even redder. "Cedric! Hello! Fancy seeing you here!"

"I know!" he enthused, looking delighted to be seeing me. "What're you doing here?"

"I'm staying with Fred and George," I grinned, glancing sideways to see them scowling at us both, evidently mutinous. Behind Cedric, I saw his father, smiling cheerily at me. "How are you?"

"I'm perfect, thanks," he beamed, running a hand through his dark hair, his grey eyes on me. "Yourself?"

"I'm great," I nodded, then pouted, "or at least, I _was_, until you nearly gave me a heart attack by chucking me in the river."

"Claudia," Fred called, his voice full of authority and sternness. "We need to get going. Hurry up and say your goodbyes."

"I'm not _five_, Fred, don't talk to me like that!" I shouted back, then shrugged apologetically at Cedric. He looked a little bemused by the way Fred had talked to me, but clapped me on the shoulder bracingly. "Sorry, Cedric, I better be off. Those two need babysitting."

"That's alright," he smiled charmingly. "I'll write to you, we'll have to meet up if you're in the area."

"That would be lovely," I laughed again, somewhat nervously. The boy was so charming, that it was rather hard not to feel all dithery in his presence. "Anyway, g'bye!"

"See you!" he waved, and then walked on over the bridge with his father, out of the town. I sighed lightly, and joined the twins at the other side, both of whom were looking half-exasperated, half-annoyed.

"Stop looking like you've both been insulted, and let's get to this shop," I said, brightly, and they consented, somewhat grudgingly. They led the way through the small town, which was fairly busy with shopping Muggles, until we reached the cornershop. The windows were bright, cheery and welcoming.

As we entered, Fred going first, George caught my wrist and muttered, quite seriously and quietly, "Don't go on about Diggory, alright? Fred's really not in the mood."

"What would it have to do with Fred?" I hissed back, stung by his sharp tone. George merely looked at me, his eyes telling me to obey him. Rolling my own eyes, I decided to do as he said, and followed his twin into the shop. It was relatively small, the shelves filled with newspapers and sweets, which Fred and George hurried over to look at.

Having not much interest in candy, I browsed the rest of the shop. It was a typical Muggle newsagent, with not much to hold my attention. I tapped my thigh musically to entertain myself, scanning the headlines of various magazines and newspapers. It was all to do with Muggle politics, or celebrities, and I didn't much care for either. Whistling, I turned around to see what else there was.

And goodness, was there something.

Unattractively, I let out a small noise between a choke and a squeak, my eyes on the assistant behind the counter. He was eighteen or nineteen, with thick black hair that reached just above his shoulders. He was tanned, and quite muscular, with a serene and very beautiful smile upon his handsome face.

He was bloody stunning.

Feeling the heat rising in my cheeks, I tried to act a bit more suave, walking slowly up to the counter and picking up a random bag of crisps. Pushing my dark hair from my eyes, I smiled at the boy, motioning to the crisps. It may have been my imagination, but I could have sworn his eyes lit up as he looked at me, and the corners of his mouth twitched.

"That'll be 30p, please," he asked, politely. My hand automatically moved to my pockets, before I remembered I hadn't any Muggle money on me. Wincing, I bit my lip, turning to find that Fred and George were behind me, holding a bag of sweets each. They raised their eyebrows at my cheery smile.

"Couldn't lend me 30p, could you?" I asked, brightly. Fred smiled and nodded, fishing in his pocket and handing me the money. "I'll pay you back once we're at your house."

"Don't worry about it," he shrugged, and I spared him a quick beam before turning back to the boy. He had raised his eyebrows at our interactions, his eyes surveying Fred somewhat coolly. I handed him the money, and he took it, but made no more moves to cash it in the till.

"Fancy coming out for a drink sometime?" he asked, suddenly, his exquisite green eyes on me now. I choked again, this time on surprise, and licked my lips nervously. Yes, I wanted to, but then again, I didn't know the first thing about him. I didn't even know his _name_.

"I - er -" I glanced back at Fred and George, who had frozen, wearing twin expressions of surprise. When I looked back at the boy, he seemed almost bored, his eyes flicking between me and Fred.

"Oh, so you're dating the ginger? You can do better. Come out with me."

"Excuse me?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. "Actually, no, I'm not dating 'the ginger'. I'm single. Talking to me like that though is hardly going to get me to go out with you, is it?"

He sniffed, evidently insulted at my lack of enthusiasm. "Well, it hardly matters. You sure you want those crisps? I wouldn't have thought you'd want to put any more weight on."

I blinked, feeling both boys making angry movements behind me, but before they could reach the smirking, beautiful boy, I raised my hand and slapped him, sharply, across the cheek. I was trembling, with anger and shame, my thoughts straying to the amount I ate and my figure.

He grabbed my wrist as I withdrew it, pulling me closer to him, face mutinous. "You dare do that again, and I'll -"

I wrenched myself away from him, snatching my money back from his hand, and gazed at him with disgust. Evidently looks weren't everything. Fred and George were flexing their fingers, but I laid my hand on George's shoulder, shaking my head.

"He's not worth it, leave it," I ordered, shortly, alarmed to hear a shake in my voice. Not wanting to be in the room with that _bastard_ one minute longer, I turned on my heel and stormed out of the shop. The air was fresh and the day bright, and I settled myself on a small, wooden bench near the river.

Whilst I wasn't crying, I was definitely close to it, and wrapped my arms around myself, shaking with the fury not yet faded. I couldn't believe how rude and nasty he had turned out to be, and I looked out across the water, cheeks red. Was I really overweight? I'd never thought about it before, I'd always assumed myself average - but was I actually plump, without realising it?

As I'd made up my mind that I was actually horrendously overweight, two people sat either side of me on the bench. I looked up, to see Fred and George, both concerned and angry. I smiled, weakly, and Fred put his arm around me, whilst George patted my leg.

"Feel free to tease me about how many crisps I eat, and how fat I am," I muttered, looking back down at the river. To my surprise, they didn't laugh or tease me, but instead sighed simultaneously. I looked up once more, suspicious.

"That guy was the biggest - the biggest -"

Fred finished off his twin's statement with a very strong expletive that we'd rarely used, looking furious. "He wasn't worth a second of your time. The arrogant _sod_ Are you sure you don't want us to go back there and beat the shit out of him?"

"No." I shook my head, taking a deep breath and smiling. "Look, I'm being dramatic. He isn't worth any of this. He's just a shallow little bastard who wants everything, and if he doesn't get it he lashes out, yeah?"

"Yeah," George agreed, fervently. "Though it should be us saying that to you, Miss Paisley, not the other way round."

"Yeah, well, one of us has to be responsible," I laughed, standing up, feeling the weight of Fred's arm leave my shoulder. I shook myself, ridding myself of my doubts and feeling eternally grateful to have such brilliant friends. Not that I'd ever admit it to them, or I'd be kicked from the group for being such a _girl_.

Fred stood up, ruffled my hair fondly, and planted a rough kiss on my forehead. I stared at him, extremely puzzled, but he merely smiled at me, turned, and made his way back to the bridge. It was only when George patted me on the shoulder and said we really should be heading home that my confusion snapped and reality rushed back.

IIIIIII

When we reached The Burrow, everything had, thank goodness, returned to normal. To my relief, neither Fred nor George had made one jibe about my weight, and we hadn't spoken about the cruel boy in the newsagent. It was probably best that way - the topic rendered all three of us bad-tempered. The garden was empty now, Mrs Weasley having evidently gone to do the spring cleaning, and we went into the house instead of lingering on the grass.

The kitchen, too, was empty, and George set about making us sandwiches. I went to help him, slicing the bread with the bread knife, but most likely made the slices too small or too big - I wasn't meant for the kitchen, and I knew it. Just as we were laying down the plates on the table, Mrs Weasley strode in to the room, chest heaving, face red and eyes narrowed.

She brandished a piece of paper in one hand and her other hand was holding various, bright coloured things. Beside me, Fred and George both paled and moved closer into me, as thought trying to protect themselves. She threw the lot down on the table, taking deep, steadying, _furious_ breaths. Now they were scattered across the table, I realised that they were the joke products, and blanched myself.

"_What_ - _is _- _the_ -_ meaning _-_ of_ - _this_?" she hissed, eyes scanning the three of us. Picking up the paper again, she read it, trembling with fury. "_Weasley and Weasley_. Explain yourselves!"

"Yeah," Fred said, much too loudly and enthusiastically, and I winced. He was a brave soul. "The names appalling, isn't it? It's only temporary, we're going to change it, what do you think we should -"

"Fred!" Mrs Weasley shouted, drawing herself up. "I asked you a question, now _answer_ it!"

"It's mine, Mrs Weasley," I said, desperately. I might not be a very good liar, but I was going to try my hardest. "I bought it over with me, you know - my - er - my joke shop plans? I was thinking those two could help me."

Her expression softened ever so slightly as she looked at me, and she shook her head. "Sorry, Claudia, but it says Weasley and Weasley, not Paisley. I know _exactly_ who's the culprit."

Fred leaned in slightly, to me, and murmured, "Thanks, anyway." Then, he drew himself, too, up to his full height and smiled brightly. "It's just a little project to make some money, Mum. It's nothing bad."

"I've read your notes," she snarled, looking down at the products. "Most of them are dangerous, and you've made _order forms_! I will not have you harming anybody, do you hear me?"

"We wouldn't sell the dangerous ones!" George insisted, and, for the first time, I noticed that Ron and Ginny had come down the stairs and were watching the argument with open mouths. "We've been testing them on ourselves, we'd never let anyone -"

"So you've been using illegal magic, obviously! You're not even seventeen!"

"Oh, come on, it's not like we've -"

"I'm putting a ban on everything like this. No more joke products, no more order forms, no more of any of this. I'm throwing it all away, do you hear me?"

"Mum!" Fred gasped, outraged. "Mum, you can't! We've spent _ages_ -"

"And just look at your OWL results!" she laughed, hollowly. "No, no, that's _it_. You're banned from it, and don't think I won't find out if you go behind my back!"

"You can't just chuck it all -"

"Why can't I, George? I forbid you to do any more of this ridiculous joke stuff, and actually focus on your life. Why can't you be more like your brothers? They were never this much trouble!"

"We're not them, though, Mum," Fred muttered, going red. "We're nothing like them, we're different. It's pointless telling us to be like them - we never will be."

"Oh, well aren't you lucky," she growling, throwing the paper back down on the table. "I'm going to destroy it all now, and don't you dare try and hide anything."

"Mum, can't we -"

"No, George, we can't! How could you think I'd approve? I'll have to be having a word with your father, too."

"Mum!" Fred hissed, evidently embarrassed. "Claudia's here, can't we just stop making a scene?"

"I am sorry, dear," she smiled suddenly, and surprisingly, looking to me now. "It's just it's highly dangerous, and I really don't think this should continue. I know you're not to blame."

With that she turned around and stormed back up to their room, leaving us in an extremely awkward silence. I went to get a drink, whilst Fred and George moved together and began to mutter angrily at one another. I downed the glass of water, and then turned, leaning against the counter, folding my arms and watching them.

Finally they looked up again, and I looked at me, grinning. Their smile was infectious, and soon I was smiling back at them. "What's the plan then?"

"We carry on with it, of course," Fred beamed, and I couldn't help but laugh with them - until, of course, Mrs Weasley came back down and silenced us all with one, length glare.

It was brave of them to carry on - but really, I wouldn't have expected anything less of them.

IIIIIII

**A/N: Hope you liked it! Please review, it makes me smile, and I always reply!**

IIIIIII


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Sorry about the longish wait, college has killed my free time. Enjoy. XD

IIIIII

"And one jump one foot - and one on the other - whoopsie - and then - there! All done!" I proclaimed happily, balancing - quite well, I thought - on one leg and beaming at the twins. They had their arms crossed, watching me with matching grumpy and unamused expressions. "Come on, you two, liven up!"

"Liven up?" asked George, raising an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, but we're playing bloody hopscotch. How 'livened up' can one be?"

"It's a great game!" I argued, enthusiastically. Indeed, it had been the only game I'd ever excelled in and I was determined to carry on the tradition. Mrs Weasley had consented to mark the squares in the grass with her wand, much to the disgruntlement of the Fred and George. "Anyway, my go is over. Who's next?"

"Not me," said George quickly, leading his twin to push him roughly in the shoulder. George grinned and shoved him towards me, eyes glinting. "Off you go then, play your turn and please Miss Paisley. You know you want to."

"Shut it," Fred sighed, rolling his eyes, as I took a step back to let him have his go. "I really don't understand what Muggles see in this game. Let alone _you_, Claudia. Thought you had better taste."

I sniffed, pretending to seem stung, as I passed him the stone he needed to use to play. "At least it doesn't involve sitting on a stick of wood far above the ground."

"Well, when you put it like that," Fred laughed, and I stuck out my tongue. He turned his attention to the markings on the grass and threw the pebble, where it landed in the last box. He smiled triumphantly at me, and hopped onto the next first square - before letting out a very feminine shriek of horror, stumbling, and falling straight onto his arse.

George was bent double with laughter, clutching his sides for support, and I myself fought to keep the amusement from my voice as I asked, "What the hell is wrong?"

"Stop laughing, you git!" Fred hissed at George, standing up and taking a good few steps back from the hopscotch marks. "It's - er - nothing. I thought I'd been - um - stung by a wasp."

I didn't believe him for a minute, of course. Instead I crept up to the game and examined it, wondering what an earth could be there to scare a Weasley twin. All that was there was a millipede, crawling in the grass, but I severely doubted it was the cause of his terror. I straightened up again, staring at him questioningly. Seeing that now George was looking nervous as well, and that both of their gazes were on the millipede, I began to laugh.

"Please tell me you're both not afraid of _this_?" I snorted, scooping up the insect in my hand and holding it out to them. They both took an automatic step backwards, and my grin widened. "You _are_, aren't you?"

"Of course not," George scoffed, though his expression suggested the opposite. "Why would we be scared of a thing like that?"

"D'you want to hold it?" I asked casually, walking nearer to them as the little fellow crawled over my wrist. They both wrinkled their noses and backed away, and I couldn't help but snort with laughter. As they smirked at my unattractive snort, I threw the poor thing at them, causing them to both yell - in a quite high pitched way, too - and I giggled, causing them both to go red.

"Come on," Fred sighed, evidently annoyed and embarrassed. "You're afraid of loads of things, and we don't mock you for them."

"What?" I spluttered, indignantly, raising my eyebrows. "_Right_. Let me just remind you, then. After my extremely traumatic lesson of flying, you didn't cease to imitate me for the rest of the year, pointing out each broomstick we ever bloody saw and laughing. In second year, you signed me up for Quidditch practise, and I had to explain to Charlie and the rest of the team that it was a joke. Then, in third year, you blindfolded me and led me up loads of stairs - and when you took the blindfold off, you were _dangling me over the side of the Astronomy Tower_, and had no idea why I was so shocked, terrified and annoyed!"

They both showed signs of interrupting, but I carried on, as the memories rushed back to me in a huge, indignant rush. "As I completely went mad, trying to save myself because I was sure I was going to fall, one of you scraped your hand on the side of the bricks and started to bleed. Of course, I went all faint and pathetic at the sight of the blood, and you two realised my next fear. Every year since you've pretended to be bleeding, or pretended _I'm _bleeding, and made me petrified. Oh, and not forgetting the time -"

"Alright, alright!" George groaned, but he was smiling at the memories, eyes glinting. He shared a reminiscent look with his twin for a minute or two, and I could help but clear my throat, bringing them both back to the present. They looked at me, as though surprised I was even there, and I shook my head. The two of them were so close, and evidently their minds were so alike, that it was sometimes frustrating to be in their presence.

"Like I said," Fred sniggered, eyes twinkling as he watched me frown at them. "We don't mock you for your fears."

"Ho ho, _millipede _boy," I sighed, folding my arms. He opened his mouth to reply, when Mrs Weasleys shout drifted over the lawn.

"Boys! Come here, look what I've just found when cleaning my room!"

The three of us shared curious looks and set off in the direction of the house. I felt intrigued as to what she could have found to interested Fred and George, and they seemed just as puzzled. We entered the kitchen together, to see Mrs Weasley flicking through a heavy looking book that rested on the table. She glanced up as we came in, smiled, and gestured for us to come over.

As we reached her, she explained, "It's an old family album. I haven't seen it for years. Here we are - yes, this is around the time you two were born."

She spun the book round so that we could see in more clearly, and we all bent to examine the photos. The first was of a much younger Mr and Mrs Weasley - Mrs Weasley was slimmer (though was evidently pregnant), and Mr Weasley had a lot more hair. They looked happy, waving up at us, and I looked at the next one.

Mrs Weasley looked exhausted in a bed at St. Mungos, and next to her sat a beaming Mr Weasley, each holding a baby twin in their arms. Both babies were crying, and I couldn't help but snicker. They were adorable as babies, with a scruff of red hair each. The next few pictures were all of the baby twins, and - once I'd 'aw'd sufficiently, we turned the page.

The first picture was of two young men, the oldest of which who seemed around twenty five, the younger around twenty two, and each held the hand of a three-year-old twin. They both had reddish brown hair, and were exceptionally handsome - the elder one taller, and more tough looking, the younger one slender and almost feminine in appearance.

I glanced at Fred and George, who were both looking unusually grave, and in turn they looked up at their mother. She had pursed her lip, and was staring down at the picture, her blue eyes having filled with tears. I bit my lip and asked, tentatively, "Who -?"

"They were my brothers," Mrs Weasley sighed, brushing away her tears with the corner of her customary apron. She pointed at the elder one, and then the younger. "That's Gideon, and that's Fabian. They were both younger than me, but they - they were -"

"They were killed by You-Know-Who's followers," Fred explained, gloomily, and Mrs Weasley nodded. I winced, feeling intrusive upon family grief. Mrs Weasley sighed, heavily, gaze still upon her dead brother's faces. "Don't worry, Mum. They died for a good cause, right?"

"Yes," she murmured, smiling weakly at Fred and George. "You two are quite like them, you know. They were notorious with their pranks at school."

They both smiled, evidently thrilled, but I couldn't share their enthusiasm. I couldn't bear to stare down into the men's handsome, laughing faces, knowing how they'd died. It bought back thoughts I hadn't thought for years, about my own mother, and the way she'd died. I closed my eyes, battling away the grief I had no reason to feel. I couldn't even remember my mother, so why was I getting so upset about it?

"Claudia?" asked George, and I opened my eyes. The three Weasleys were watching me, seeming confused and concerned. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I smiled, quickly, brushing my hair from my eyes. "I'm - er - I'm going to get some fresh air."

With another reassuring smile at them all, I quickly headed out into the garden, breathing deeply and shaking my head. There was no point getting teary and mournful for a woman I'd never known. From what I'd heard from my father and other relatives, my mother had been rebellious and confident, and I felt sure she wouldn't want me to feel so awful about her death, so many years later.

"Claudia?" came a soft, tentative voice, and I turned, to see that Fred had followed me, expression weary. I smiled in welcome and he returned it, though almost hesitantly. "What's wrong? Is it - is it your mother?"

"I - how do you know?" I asked, feeling somewhat wrong footed. I had never mentioned to either twin that my mother had been killed by Voldemort, and I couldn't fathom how he knew.

"My mum just said she remembered about it," Fred explained, solemnly. "She knew your mother - Dorcas Meadowes, wasn't she called?"

"Yeah," I said, burrowing my brow. "I never knew your mother knew her. There's a few years difference between them."

"I think your mum was good friends with Gideon and Fabian, actually," Fred sighed, staring across the lawn into the orchards. "Anyway. You alright? You know, if you - er - if you want to talk about -"

"No, I'm alright," I laughed, pushing him in the shoulder good-naturedly. He was awkward and terrible at trying to be serious and comforting, but at least he was trying. "Anyway, what are the plans for this afternoon, millipede boy?"

Raising his eyebrows at my smug expression, he merely replied, "I thought we'd do some flying."

IIIIIII

Foolishly, I thought they had been joking.

Unfortunately, that was not the case, and half and hour later I was laid on my back in the grass, watching the two of them zoom over head, shielding my eyes from the sun with a hand. They were evidently having fun, laughing and whooping, but I felt terribly bored. As I'd always said, flying held absolutely no interest for me, and even watching them have fun couldn't stir anything inside of me.

I rolled onto my stomach, picking a dandelion from the grass and crossing my ankles in the air behind me. I spun the flower in my fingers, watching the petals, and feeling somewhat glum. Whilst I loved being here, and I loved the entire family, I did miss my own. I supposed I could Floo over at any time, but I didn't want to use up the Weasley's supplies - and, after all, I was pretty sure I could survive a summer without seeing them, so banished it all from my mind as efficiently as possible.

I scrunched the flower in my hand, dropped the petals onto the floor and sighed, pulling myself to my feet. I looked up to where the boys were flying, slightly lower and now within earshot, and squinted up at them.

"I'm going to write a letter to Lee or something," I called, beginning to walk away. However, Fred and George skidded to their feet either side of me, frowning. I raised my eyebrows, alarmed at their determined expressions. "Er - are you two alright?"

"Yep," George smiled, cheerfully, and they shared a mischievous look. "But you're not, obviously. We want to fly, but we don't want you to be left out."

"Well," I said, startled. "There's not much you can do, is there?"

"Oh, there is," Fred replied brightly.

"Yeah," George laughed. "There is. We thought you might want to -"

"- go flying with one of us," Fred finished smoothly.

"Er - what d'you mean?" I asked, warily. "I'm not getting on a broomstick. I can't fly. I hate heights. Everybody knows that."

"You have to master your fears though!" George complained, whilst Fred nodded in agreement. "Listen, you've not attempted to fly since that first time. If you _try_, then maybe you'll -"

"Oh no," I shook my heard, trying to make them understand. Once the two of them wanted me to do something, usually I'd end up doing it, and I couldn't let them persuade me this time. "I'm not, under any circumstances, getting on a -"

"Oh, you are," Fred smirked, and they shared yet another look. "See, George and I were talking earlier, and we thought that if you weren't alone on the broomstick - you know, if you went on the back of one of ours, you'd be able to do it."

"No!" I insisted, not even considering it, and backing away as they both took a step closer to me. "I'll kick you if you try anything, I swear."

"I'll risk it," George smirked, then caught Fred's eye and looked suddenly knowing. "In _fact_, I'm not very good at flying with someone behind me. Fred'll have to take you."

"If you insist," Fred winked, and feeling I was missing something rather important, I cleared my throat.

"What do you think -"

But before I could question what exactly they thought they were doing, Fred had grabbed my hand, sat on his broomstick and was trying to pull me on behind him. I resisted, staring at him as though he was out of his mind. After all, I believed at the time he _was_ quite mad, trying to get me to do what I'd always sworn never to do again.

"Fred," I pleaded, staring into his eyes and frowning, feeling oddly nervous. "Listen - I really, really can't stand heights, and I really don't want to go flying. It's not just a fear, it's like - I dunno, a phobia, I just _can't_."

"I know," he sighed, though there was still something of a smirk in his face. "The thing is, I'm not going to go high. You get on the broomstick, we'll go about a foot in the air, okay?"

"A - a foot?" I asked uncertainly, giving in as we gazed at each other. "You promise?"

"I promise," he grinned, evidently thrilled I was giving in. George had already kicked off, and was feet above us in the air, amusing himself by chasing a butterfly across the lawn. With a huge feeling of trepidation, I swung a leg over the back of the broom, and settled myself on it uncomfortably.

"You might want to hold on," he suggested, his voice light and innocent, but I couldn't help but go rather pink as I surveyed his back.

"Er - what to?"

"My back, you idiot," he snorted from the front, and I rolled my eyes. Awkwardly, I put my arms around his waist, and he let out a light sigh. I scooted forward a little so that I was more comfortable and - with me wincing and grimacing and biting my lip - he took off from the ground.

True to his word, we hung only a foot or so from the lawn. My heart was beating in my chest, against his back, but it wasn't as half as scary as I'd imagined it to be. Slowly but surely, he went across the garden and back again, our feet scuffing the ground. In order to keep them from doing so, I reached my shoes forward and hooked my ankles around his, pulling them back at an angle.

He quite noticeably tensed, and looked over his shoulder, red hair in his eyes and cheeks surprisingly pink. I guessed the flying made him quite warm, and so dismissed it. "Are you - er - scared?"

"No, I'm fine," I smiled reassuringly and honestly. "Why?"

"Just, you know," he grinned, looking down at our entwined legs. "Thought you were looking for some extra support. We won't fall, you know, and even if we do it's hardly going to hurt."

"I'm not scared," I laughed, wrinkling my nose. "Come on, even _I'm _not that pathetic."

"A little higher then?"

"What?" I spluttered, clutching him tighter. "No! You said a foot! Don't you _dare_ break your promise, or I'll have to -"

"Okay, okay!" he exclaimed, a snigger in his voice. I scowled, rather embarrassed, and we continued hovering over the grass at the same level. After five minutes or so, sensing that he felt extremely bored and stupid having to fly like that, I sighed heavily.

"You can let me off now," I said, nudging him in the back. "This can't be much fun for you."

"I'm alright," he shrugged, glancing over his shoulder again. "Why, are _you_ bored?"

"Nope," I assured him, and he turned back to look where he was flying. "I just thought you might -"

"I'm going to keep doing this, you know," he said, conversationally. I blinked.

"What? Flying?"

"Yeah," he said, a smile in his voice. "I mean, every day, I'll fly you a little bit higher or something, or faster. In the end you'll have mastered your fear, won't you?"

"That's -" I faltered, trying to find the right words, or I'd end up sounding soppy and girlish. "That's really, well - surprisingly considerate of you. Why do you want me to fly so much?"

"I can beat you at Quidditch then," he laughed, and I couldn't help but join in. There was something oddly comforting about flying (at such a small way from the ground at least), my arms snugly around his waist and our conversation playful. It was something I'd never done before, and I began to wonder why not. I loved it.

Fred turned round again, grinning, and asked, "Let's go up a few more feet then, shall we?"

I promptly hit him in the back.

IIIIIII

"Is Harry coming round this summer?" Ginny asked, as we ate our way through dinner that night. I looked up from my dinner and listened, interested, to her and Ron's conversation. Harry Potter and I had always got on reasonably well, although we'd not spoken an awful lot. I found him pleasant and modest despite his fame, and liked him a great deal for it.

"I hope so," Ron shrugged, talking thickly through a mouth of mashed potatoes. "It's up to Mum and Dad, I guess."

"Mum," Ginny said, turning to her mother, who looked at her questioningly. "Is Harry coming round this summer?"

"Yes, dear, if all goes well," Mrs Weasley smiled, and Mr Weasley nodded.

"I may be able to get tickets for the World Cup, as I said, and Harry and Hermione are welcome to come along."

"Awesome," Ron grinned, and Ginny beamed.

"Claudia can come if we get tickets, can't she?" Fred asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Of course!" Mr Weasley said, as though surprised he even needed to be asked. "It'll be quite a job trying to get that amount of tickets - that said, Ludo Bagman was hinting heavily the other day he's willing to give me some for nothing. I didn't want to ask outright and seem rude."

"I really hope we can go," George sighed, a faraway look on his face. "Can you imagine? It'll be wicked."

I doubted this, somewhat. Quidditch matches did nothing for me; I had quite an interest in them in school simply because my best friends were involved, and I wanted Gryffindor to win. But the sport itself was a mystery, and I didn't care much if we got tickets or not. I was content just to hear about the score afterward.

As the table broke out into smaller conversations, I found that Fred was staring at me. I raised my eyebrows questioningly, and he shook his head, grinning. "You really have no interest in Quidditch, do you? It's mad."

I sniffed, with dignity. "It isn't mad at all. I like Quidditch, I'm just not bothered about it. I think the mad thing is getting all excited over it like you do."

"Why do you come to all the matches at school then?" he questioned, looking genuinely interested. "It seems pointless if you don't care about the game."

I rolled my eyes, having no wish to carry on the conversation about something so boring. "Because I love the sight of you in your Quidditch uniform, evidently. You look simply dashing."

"I try my best," he winked, and then was taken into conversation by his twin, predictably about the Quidditch World Cup. I sighed heavily and tucked into my meal, barely listening to the talk around me. Thinking of how the topic all summer would be about broomsticks, I finished off my meal and leant back, stretching contently.

"Thanks, Mrs Weasley," I smiled, fighting back a tired yawn. "That was lovely."

"It's no problem at all, dear," she beamed in response, and then glanced at her daughter. "Ginny, don't pick at your food like that, eat properly."

"Sorry, Mum," Ginny said, jumping as though she'd returned from a daydream.

"Thinking of Harry, eh?" Fred snorted, as George and Ron proceeded to snigger. The young girl's cheeks coloured dramatically, and she glared at her brother, folding her arms across her chest. "What? I'm right, aren't I?"

"Shut up," she hissed, looking livid. "Just because you can't keep your eyes off Claudia!"

"Ginny, Fred," Mrs Weasley said, sharply, looking between one angry face to the other. "That is _enough_, both of you."

"Thanks for the dinner," Fred said shortly, standing up and glaring fiercely at his little sister, his cheeks as red as hers. "I'm going upstairs."

With that he scraped his chair out of the way and stormed from the room, his footsteps loud as he ran up the stairs. George stood up, looking exasperated, and hurried after his twin. It left the table in a stunned silence, and me with burning cheeks, until Ginny bit her lip and looking glumly down at her plate.

"Erm, sorry," she mumbled guilty to me. "I didn't mean to suggest -"

"It's alright," I replied heavily, more than a little annoyed at her for bringing me into it. It made me think of things that were completely wrong, involving Fred and I, and I didn't like it one bit. "I mean, nothing was meant by it, so it's alright."

"Oh, of course not," she said hastily, sounding relieved. "I didn't mean to say it, I don't know what came over me."

"That's fine then," I smiled, annoyance ebbing away. She had said something in the heat of the moment, and that was understandable. Fred had been teasing her after all, so really, he deserved to be teased back.

Anyway, there was no truth in it at all.

Was there?

IIIIIII

**A/N:** Oh, Claudia, why must you be so blind? xD Please review! Love you all!

IIIIIIII


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: Any characters, places etc. that you recognise belong to J K Rowling. I'm just a humble writer who likes to play around and write love stories._

**A/N: I've been under so much stress lately, eugh. I'm surprised I managed to find time to write this! Nonetheless, enjoy! XD**

IIIIIIII

Once again, I found myself on the back of Fred's broom, arms around his waist and fears fading away. We were flying at three foot today, and though I had had some definite reservations to begin with, I was getting used to it. George zoomed along somewhere overhead, impatient with our slow progress, but to my surprise, Fred was being very patient.

It was the third day of August, a Sunday, and the sun beat down on our backs, making the ride more uncomfortable than usual. Time had gone extremely, almost unnervingly, fast, and I had suddenly realised that morning that there was less than a month left until school. The thought made me feel grumpy - after all, it would mean an end to all the relaxing I had been doing that summer.

With heavy thoughts of complicated Transfiguration spells and parchment after parchment of Charms essays, I rested my chin glumly against Fred's shoulder. He squirmed slightly, to get himself comfortable, and we continued on our seemingly pointless journey around the garden.

Far above us, George flew around on his own, occasionally throwing exasperated looks down at us. I was dressed today in a sleeveless top and, God forbid, a skirt, thoroughly annoyed by the hot weather. I felt rude, but I wanted to ask Fred if we could give it a rest for the day. I had never been very polite when dealing with heat. I'd take the winter any time.

Just as I opened my mouth to tell him to let me down, George's voice drifted down to us, smug and mischievous. "Isn't it hot? Let's have a race."

"A race?" I asked, sharply, as George swooped down to our level. "What do you mean? I'm not going to -"

"Well, unless you're both afraid I'll beat you," George smiled, casually inspecting his fingernails. "I'll understand if a _girl_ knows she's going to lose to me. It's only natural, and true."

"Ex_cuse_ me?" I spluttered, firing up. "Just because I'm a girl I won't beat you? You're severely mistaken. As long as we race at this height only, you're on."

"Sure," he grinned, winking. "This height only. You're in, Fred?"

"Of course," Fred scoffed, and turned to look at me over his shoulder. "You're sure, aren't you? You're not going to have some mad hysterics once we speed up, are you?"

I hesitated for a moment, making his eyebrows raise. "No - no, of course I won't. Let's do it."

"You're _sure_?" Fred asked, suspiciously. "This isn't just because of George taunting you for being a girl?"

"No," I firmly lied, hoping against hope nothing would go wrong. "No. Come on, just go."

"Okay, then," he said, in a voice that clearly said he doubted my honestly. "Whenever you're ready, Georgie-boy."

"On the count of three, then," George laughed, sounding thrilled to actually be allowed to fly with his twin for once. I bit my lip, burying my face into Fred's back. "One. Two. _Three_."

Both broomsticks went, at full speed, through the garden, taking sharp turn after sharp turn. I screamed and held onto Fred as hard as possible, closing my eyes tightly, my hair whipping behind me. It was horrendous, and I was sure I'd throw up, but little did I know the worst was yet to come.

All I knew was that we were suddenly shooting _upwards_, which was most definitely not part of the agreement. My eyes flew open, and I realised George was winning by flying higher and higher, and then - my stomach lurching - we swooped down again. The promise had been broken, and I was so mad I could have murdered both of them in one go, but as we shot back to the ground, twins neck to neck now, I went light-headed and - pulling the traitorous Fred with me - tumbled straight onto the grassy floor.

We both let out an exclamation of surprise, but were only a foot or so in the end, so neither of us were hurt. I had landed, somehow, draped over the boy, and we both groggily stirred and moved to be more comfortable after the fall - until I realised I was blinking straight down into his face, and was doing nothing short of lying on top of him.

"You idiot!" I yelled, to distract myself from the heat strangely rising in my cheeks. "Why did you go that high?"

I hit him in the shoulder, and he smiled, and in the next moment we were rolling around in the grass, play fighting and grinning and laughing. We rolled down the short bank towards the house, happy and free in the summer sun, until we came to a rest, entwined, giggling and out of breath.

I looked down again into his eyes, still chuckling softly to myself, but that stopped abruptly enough. As I gazed down into his eyes, I couldn't help but feel an odd, hot jolt deep inside, and my cheeks flushed red. Where had _that_ come from? I tried to banish it from my mind, and rise off him, but he raised a hand and brushed a lock of brown hair from my eyes, making me freeze.

"Claudia," he said, gently, and my breath, for reasons unknown, caught in my throat. "Claudia, do you think we'll ever --"

"Mum says lunch is ready!" Ginny's voice came from the house, and I instantly pulled myself to my feet, stumbling backwards from him as though burnt. I'm pretty sure I _looked _burnt, what with my red cheeks. Or perhaps I looked like a dying, red fish, with my embarrassed, gaping expression.

Yes. I'm pretty sure that's just what I looked like.

It must have been something overly unattractive, anyway, because Fred stood up just as quickly as I had, and sped towards the house without looking back.

IIIIIII

"You've got to be joking," Fred and George said in unison, voices hollow. I looked, uncomprehendingly, from the twins' mutinous expressions, to Ginny's irritated one, to Ron's shocked one, to Mrs Weasley's nervous one. I couldn't see why they were all acting so dramatically about something so small.

"I can't see what's the matter," I stated, laughing slightly. Every Weasley I had met so far had been perfectly lovely, and I couldn't imagine them having a horrid relative. George took the letter from his mother's hands to read for himself, whilst Fred shook his head, seeming heavily annoyed. "Look, what's wrong with -"

"_Dear Molly_," George read out loud, wrinkling his nose. "_I am coming round to your house for dinner this evening. I hope the house will be ready for me, although I will not expect to sleep there afterward - I shall Floo home, of course. I shall see you, Arthur and the children at about five this afternoon. Yours sincerely, Muriel._"

"That's so rude!" Ginny exclaimed, open-mouthed. "She didn't even say please!"

"Well, manners are hardly her strong point, are they?" Fred scoffed. "She's always been a jumped-up, obnoxious old -"

"Fred, Ginny, please, Auntie Muriel is part of the family," Mrs Weasley admonished, although there was some uncertainty in her voice. "I'm sorry, Claudia, we're all being very vague. Auntie Muriel is my aunt, and the children's great aunt. She's not too fond of children, I don't believe, so it leads her to be somewhat, well -"

"Bitchy?" supplied George.

"George, _really_!" Mrs Weasley gasped, whilst Ron and Fred snorted with laughter. "Don't say things like that, especially about your family! She's just - well, she'll speak her mind."

"Yeah, in a bitchy way," George mumbled, but went silent at a sharp look from his mother. There was a long pause, until Mrs Weasley took the letter back, folded it back into the envelope and sighed, heavily. She rolled her sleeves up, swept her hair from her face, and looked around at us all.

"Who's helping with dinner, then? It will take a while to prepare, especially if she expects - well - extravagance."

"I'll help," I said, in chorus with all of her children. She smiled around at us all, and began handing out jobs. Ron was sent to the village to fetch a list of groceries, Ginny was sent upstairs to the spare room to fish out the best china from an over-stuffed cupboard, whilst the twins and I were asked to go and collect the eggs from the hen's shed in the garden.

As we made our way out towards it, I lost no time in questioning my friends about their Great Auntie Muriel. I was dubious she could be quite as bad as they were making out, if the rest of the family were anything to judge by. "What's wrong with her? I really can't imagine you having a nasty relative."

"She's nothing like the rest of us," Fred sniffed, as though offended to even be associated with her. "She's not a Weasley, either. She's a Prewett. Saying that, the majority of Mum's family are great. She's a bit of an exception."

"She hates us," George laughed, though bitterly. "Can't stand our pranks. Of course, that means we do them all the more to her."

"She's never satisfied with the family," Fred complained, as we squeezed into the dark, hen shed. "Nothing's ever good enough for her. Plus the fact we're - well, we're not made of money. She hates it, and blames Dad for it all the time. I reckon she thinks Mum could have done better with her life."

"Oh," I replied, nervously, as I scooped out an egg from underneath a disgruntled hen. "Well. I'm sure she'll - well, I don't. Hm. She won't be unpleasant tonight, will she?"

"Most likely," George replied, darkly, and then swore loudly as a hen, alarmed at the hand groping underneath her, pecked him hard on the wrist. Rubbing where she had done so, George grimaced and added, "You better watch your back, Claudia. She'll want to know everything about you."

IIIIIIII

We were all downstairs, each of us rather nervous. It was five to five, and she Mrs Weasley had assured me her aunt was _never_ late. Fred, George and I sat in the living room near the fireplace, shooting looks at each other every so often. The rest of the family - including Percy and Mr Weasley, who were home from work - lingered about, occasionally straightening a curtain, or wiping down a dusty shelf.

"She's going to hate me, isn't she?" I whispered anxiously to Fred, who sat next to me on the sofa. He rolled his eyes at my question, evidently exasperated. "Don't look like _that_, I was only asking!"

"You always think the worst," Fred sighed, but then grinned, suddenly. "But yeah, she'll probably hate you."

"Perfect," I sighed, folding my arms. "I can't wait."

Mr Weasley leant by the fireplace, quiet and apprehensive. I couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. From what I'd gathered, the poor man got a very harsh time from at least one of Molly's relatives because of the lack of money the family had. Admittedly, it lead me to already judge this Muriel as somebody I'd most likely despise.

Before I could say anything to Fred, however, a sudden commotion took place in the fireplace. There was a vision of a spinning woman, and in the next moment the said woman was stumbling onto the rug, coughing heavily and clutching a blue-feathered hat to her grey hair.

Mrs Weasley rushed towards her from the window, looking heavily flustered and brushing her hair behind her ear hastily. "Aunt Muriel!" she exclaimed, taking the woman's travelling cloak. "How are you? Do have a seat - George, stand up and give Auntie Muriel a seat."

With an insolent look, George grudgingly got to his feet and took his mother's place by the window instead. The woman, who had straightened herself up and was brushing down her robes from the soot, took an appraisingly glance around the room.

Her gaze, much to my alarm, fell straight on me.

"Who are you?" she barked, falling heavily into George's recently vacated seat. "I don't believe I've seen you before."

"Claudia Paisley," I offered, surprised by her directness. "I'm Fred and George's friend. I'm staying for the summer."

"Taking on more strays, Molly?" she asked Mrs Weasley, who was busy hanging Muriel's cloak on the back of a door. "I don't think it's wise. I'm sure you have a hard enough time to feed all of your own family's mouths."

"_Strays_?" I spluttered indignantly, but Fred grabbed my hand to calm me. I glanced at him to see him glaring at his Great Aunt with gritted teeth, but he caught my eye and shook his head. Evidently, nobody was meant to lose their temper with the woman. I didn't feel quite up to testing the waters, and so fell back, silent.

"Now," Muriel continued, and I supposed she either hadn't heard me or was simply ignoring me. "Is William still working away from home? I'd hoped to see him very much."

"Yes, Bill's still in Egypt," Mr Weasley explained, and, with a hint of ice I'd never heard in his voice before, added, "though the rest of the children, except Charlie, are all here."

"Of course they are," Muriel laughed, dismissively. "How could I miss them? I feel like I'm in a furnace, with all of this red hair."

"Would you like to come through to the dining room?" Mrs Weasley intervened quickly, before any of the five, indignant children could reply to her rude comment. "I'll get you a drink, and I can begin to serve tea."

"Thank you, Molly," Muriel sniffed, standing up and gathering her robes about her. "I'm glad you have some sense of order in the house, what with all the havoc."

She shot one disapprovingly look around the room in general, as if the people themselves were the havoc, and swept after Mrs Weasley in to the kitchen. Mr Weasley ran a tired hand over his face, shook himself and went after the women. Ginny and Ron, sharing a look, soon followed. Percy, for once showing some disrespect for an adult, shot an exasperated look at the twins, and left.

"Wow," I breathed, laughing nervously. "Your Great Auntie is really something, isn't she?"

"She's horrible," Fred grunted, as the two of us stood up from the sofa. "She treats Dad like he's a piece of Hippogriff dung. Dad's never been anything but hospitable to her; I'm surprised he hasn't cracked and shouted before. Even _he's_ not that good natured."

"He must be," George mused, sadly, before shaking himself and grinning. "Never mind, eh? We'll cause enough trouble on behalf of everyone."

"Trouble?" I asked, wondering what on earth they were up to _now_. "What are you going to do?"

"You'll see in good time, Miss Paisley," Fred winked. I suddenly became aware that he was still holding my hand, and automatically looked down. He noticed it too, it seemed, for the next moment he had let it go and bustled away after the rest of his family.

"Come on then, best get off to dinner," George said, bracingly, before I could even begin to think about what I was feeling. "It's going to be _great_ fun."

IIIIIII

"Don't chew your food so messily, Ginny," Muriel snapped, in between forkfuls of Yorkshire pudding. "It isn't ladylike at all. Having all these older brothers can't be a good influence on you."

"Sorry," Ginny muttered, red-faced and glaring at the table. "Dad, have you managed to hear any news about the Quidditch World Cup?"

"The Quidditch World Cup?" echoed Muriel, before Mr Weasley could reply. "Really, Arthur! It's bad enough all the boys seem to have been obsessed with the horrid sport, let alone your daughter."

"Well, I think -" Mr Weasley began, angrily, but Muriel cut across him again, focusing her scarily blue eyes on _me_. "Do _you_ like Quidditch? An alarming rate of girl's seem to be getting into it nowadays. It's quite despicable."

"Actually, I'm not a huge fan," I admitted, ignoring the glares Fred and George were so predictably sending me. "I like it at school because of the House competitions, but aside from that I'm not too bothered about it. I never play."

She stared at me for another minute, expression indiscernible, whilst we all ate around her. When she next spoke, her voice was a mixture of curiosity and superiority. "And just _who_ are your parents, Miss Paisley?"

I choked with surprise on my mashed potatoes, and didn't recover until Fred had thumped me hard on the back. Eyes streaming, I flushed red with embarrassment at my clumsiness, and mumbled, "Harrison Paisley and Dorcas Meadowes."

"Oh, Harrison Paisley?" she asked, ignoring my coughing fit. "I know of him, I believe he's good friends with most of the wizarding world and holds nice dinners, doesn't he?"

"I - well - yes, he does like to have people around for dinner," I admitted, rather uncomfortable at how much she knew. The fact that my father was on good terms with different sectors of the wizarding world was often a prickly topic with me. I hated the fact that he got on with stupid, Pureblood supremacists such as the Malfoys, despite his half-blood status. "He's at work a lot, though. My stepmother usually hosts them nowadays."

"Your stepmother?" Muriel asked, raising an eyebrow. "You know, I believe I know of the name Dorcas Meadowes. What is your mother's profession?"

She knew. I _knew_ she knew that my mother was dead. I could see it in her impassive expression, behind her blue eyes. Fred and George, either side of me, seemed to sense it too, as they bristled with anger. Shaking my head to tell them I didn't need them to intervene, I shrugged, trying to seem indifferent. "She was unemployed, I think."

"Was?" Muriel asked, brow furrowed. "What do you mean by _was_, child?"

"She's dead," I said, bluntly, as though I stated it all the time to strangers.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Muriel sighed, although she didn't sound it. "I did wonder why she didn't share your surname. Have you and your father had it changed since her death, or -?"

"Well, no," I smiled brightly, trying to press down the bubbling anger rising inside at her blatant rudeness. "My parents were never married."

"Oh dear," Muriel said, with a sad smile, and then turned to ask Percy something about his job. I blinked, more than a little hurt at this cold dismissal, and sat back, folding my arms. I'd lost my appetite now, even with Mrs Weasley's scrumptious food in front of me.

"Just ignore her," George muttered under his breath, looking sympathetic. "She's just an old hag who knows no better."

"Yeah," Fred agreed fervently, nodding. "And anyway, she'll get what's coming to her soon enough."

"What do you mean by that?" I whispered back, raising an eyebrow. "Don't do anything too bad, alright? It'd be stupid causing more trouble. Evidently things are bad enough without a prank thrown in the works."

"S'too late to warn us now!" George laughed, looking mischievous and excited. "Pranks always make things better. You'll see."

Before I could reply, Fred's hand had slipped under the table and squeezed my thigh. I jumped about a foot in the air at that, knocking my legs against the table. Everybody fell silent and looked at me questioningly - Muriel stern and disapproving - but I shrugged and looked down hastily at my plate.

Once everyone was preoccupied with their conversations once more, I glared at Fred and whispered, "What the hell was _that_ for?"

"I was just trying to comfort you!" he hissed, cheeks slightly red. "I couldn't say much, or she'd hear me. Stop being ungrateful."

"Ungrateful?" I laughed, somewhat mirthlessly. "I'm not being ungrateful. You just squeezed my leg underneath the bloody table, and I'm being _ungrateful_?"

Unfortunately for me, there had been a general lull in the conversation at my last question, and after a second or two I realised everyone was staring at the two of us with open mouths - except for George, who was doing his best to smother his laughter, to no avail.

"Well, well," Muriel laughed, after a few moments of awkward, shocked silence. She looked at Mr Weasley, with the air of one about to begin a long lecture. "You see, Arthur, this is what happens when you let your boys date bastard children. Utter disaster for the family."

Several things happened at once.

I stood up, furiously, to shout that for one thing, Fred and I weren't dating, and for another, who the hell was _she_ to call me a bastard?; Fred jumped to his feet a second after me, and grabbed my shoulders, trying to pull me towards him for goodness knows what reason; Mr Weasley slammed down a fist on the table in anger and began to shout and, with the most impact of all, a Dungbomb went off underneath Muriel's chair.

The smell was horrendous, and we all fell back, retching. Muriel stood up with an extremely alarmed expression, running with surprising speed from her seat, for one so old. Fred and George collapsed on the floor with hysterical laughter, and in seconds, everyone realised what must have happened.

"Fred, George!" Mrs Weasley shouted, though there was a surprising trace of amusement in her voice. "Apologise at one and clean it up!"

"Apologise?" shrieked Muriel, over the renewed roars of laughter from the twins. "I don't want an apology! I have never been so offended in my life! Fabian and Gideon were pranksters, but they were never common!"

A deathly silence fell then. Mrs Weasley went very straight backed, her expression upset. Mr Weasley and his children went stony faced, evidently at her lack of tack and her description of the twins as common. I, on the other hand, stayed in the corner of the room, not wanting to get involved.

My chest was still heaving as I tried to rid myself of the adrenaline of anger. What preoccupied me more, however, were the sudden events in the day between Fred and I. First, he seemed tender as I bloody _lay on top of him_. Then, he had held my hand for a fairly long time. Thirdly, he had squeezed my thigh out of the blue. And then, just as the Dungbomb was exploding, he had pulled me towards him in a manner that - had it been anyone but the infamously immature Fred Weasley - I could have interpreted as romantic.

Lost in confusion and very much forbidden thoughts about what it could all mean, I barely noticed the livid Muriel marching from the room to Floo home, a tearful Mrs Weasley hurrying along in her wake. The woman had been foul, but I could take that. I could take the jibes about my family, and her insults - but it was Fred's actions I couldn't take.

I turned to study the giggling boy, as he clapped George on the back and congratulated him. He was exactly how I'd always seen him. But _was_ he? There was something different went I looked at him, something stirring in the pit of my gut, like insects lurching to life and attacking my stomach lining.

He turned, grinning, and caught my eye. We gazed at each other for a moment - the sensation inside growing to an outrageous scale - before I looked away, made my excuses, and hurried away to the bathroom.

At least there was a locked door in that room.

At least there I could hide from Fred Weasley, and the stupid, damnable, disgusting _crush_ that had blossomed inside.

IIIIIII

**A/N: Please review? You've all been so kind to me with this story, I love you!**

IIIIIII


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Thanks to all that have reviewed so far! Sorry I haven't replied recently, I was in a car accident (just my luck) and have had a lot to do with other stuff, so I'm surprised I even found time to write this! I've read every review though, so thanks!

IIIIIII

Much to my alarm the next morning, an owl came shooting through the window and landed straight in my breakfast bowl. I screeched as the cornflakes and milk splashed all over me, causing Ron to roar with laughter and spit out half of his own food. As I mopped the food from my t-shirt, I scowled at the laughing boy.

"Oh, very funny," I snapped, but Ron just continued to snigger. "Just wait until some owl comes pelting at you, and then we'll see who's laughing."

"Yeah, Ron, stop being mean," Fred sighed, though I noticed there was a definite shake of laughter in his voice too. He caught my eye and I folded my arms, daring him to laugh as well. He smiled winningly and I rolled my eyes, looking away. "Remember when poor old Scabbers bit you? You weren't so happy then."

"'Poor old Scabbers'?" Ron repeated, snorting derisively. "Hardly."

Fred raised his eyebrows. "I thought you were really upset that he'd died?"

"Oh, of course I was," Ron corrected himself, hastily, going red. "He was just lazy, though, wasn't he? Uh - yeah, I miss him though. At least I've got Pig now."

"Talking of owls," George spoke up, looking curiously in my breakfast bowl, "whose is that?"

Remembering the reason for the conversation in the first place, I looked down into the bowl and prodded the owl tentatively. It looked up at me with sheepish, yellow eyes, and I laughed. "It's Pigeon!"

"Similar names, or what?" Ron asked, glaring at me as though I'd stolen his owl. I laughed again, gently picking up the bird. "Who's owl is it?"

"Mine," I explained, stroking it's tawny head and examining it's wings to ensure it wasn't hurt. "Well, she's my family's. She's so fat she can't land properly, silly thing. Dad sent me a letter a couple of weeks ago, and I'm borrowing her. It must be Cedric's reply."

Fred dropped the spoon he had been lifting to his mouth, and it fell with a clatter on the table. I glanced at him, puzzled, to see him looking outraged. "Diggory's _reply_? You mean you wrote to him _first_?"

"Well, yeah," I muttered, feeling a mixture of guilt and indignation. "I asked how he was and everything. We're friends, for goodness sake."

"Yeah, whatever," he snapped, turning from humorous to cold in less than a minute. I gaped at him, stunned and outraged at his stupid _boy_ traits, before glaring at him fiercely. What right had he to talk to me like that, whatever he thought about Cedric?

"Would you give it a rest about him? You're so childish, and it's really beginning to piss me off!"

"Oh, and you writing to that pretty boy isn't pissing _me_ off?" he snarled, and I blinked.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I laughed, incredulously. "I've been friends with him since our first week at Hogwarts! You've never had as much as a problem with it as you do now."

"Well - that's because -" he struggled for a moment, and then shrugged, looking away. "Just read your letter and see what that idiot wants."

"Don't tell me what to -"

"You two are so weird," George commented, conversationally, causing us both to stare at him. He shrugged, smirking. "You're like, best friends, but you hate each other's guts when it comes to Diggory. It's weird."

I sniffed, choosing not to reply for the sake of my dignity, and instead untied the slightly milk-soaked letter from Pigeon's leg and tore open the envelope. As I unfolded the parchment, I saw the familiar swirl of Cedric's handwriting, and smiled to myself. It was like a familiar hand on my shoulder.

_Dear Claudia,_

_I'm very well thank you! Thanks for taking the time to write - I was just about to send a letter to you, but you beat me to it. How are you? I hope you've not got into too much trouble with those Weasley twins._

_My parents are going out to a party tonight and staying with my aunt overnight. I wondered if you'd like to come round? I've got some Firewhisky, lucky me, but thought it'd be a bit sad to drink alone._

_How about it? If you can, pop your head over by Floo and let me know. My address is on the back of the envelope. It'll be really nice to catch up and, of course, get smashed - although we can't ruin the house too much or my parents will kill me._

_Hope to hear from you soon,_

_Cedric x x x_

I looked up from the letter, beaming. "Can I borrow a pinch of Floo powder?"

"Why?" Fred asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I need to have a quick word with Cedric," I replied, jumping to my feet, breakfast forgotten. "Can I use it now, then? Cheers. I'll pay you back, I promise."

Before either twin could reply, I rushed over to the fireplace, feeling over the moon. Cedric wanted me to go over to his for a drink? I'd have a great time, I was sure of it. As I picked up the pot containing the Floo powder I noticed, with a twinge of guilt, there wasn't much in it. I really _would_ have to pay them back for it.

I lit the fireplace clumsily with a match, and then threw the powder into the flames. When they coloured green, I shouted out Cedric's address, fell to my knees and - grimacing - stuck my head in the fire. Immediately, I felt the strangest sensation of my head spinning and the rest of my body staying put, ash getting into my face, before -

"Nice legs," I grinned, blinking away the soot from my eyes.

Cedric jumped about a foot in the air, leaping off his chair and spinning to look at me. He was dressed in fluffy slippers and a very fluffy white dressing down, which only reached his knees, leaving the rest of his legs bare. He was alone in a large and handsome dining room that was decorated in browns and deep reds.

"Claudia!" he laughed, looking surprised but gracious. "Hello!"

"You alright?" I smiled, ignoring the pain in my knees.

"I'm fine!" he replied, dropping to his knees in front of me. "How are you?"

"Perfect, thanks!" I beamed, cheeks going pink at his enthusiasm to see me. "I came to tell you I can come tonight. Thanks a lot for inviting me."

"You can come? Great!" he enthused, evidently oblivious to my red cheeks. "My parents are going out around seven. I'll come and pick you up once they've gone. I'll Floo over and collect you."

"Oh, you don't need to pick -"

"'Course I do," he said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "So yeah, I've managed to get loads of Firewhisky. We should have a really nice time."

"I hope so. I haven't been drunk in ages," I laughed. "Oh, and could I ask you a favour? D'you reckon you could bring enough Floo powder over to get us both to your house? The Weasley's supply is running a bit low, and I feel bad."

"That'll be fine," he nodded, sweeping a hand through his tousled brown hair. "Anyway, I better go and get dressed. I'll see you later, I hope!"

"I hope so too!" I said, brightly. He leant forward quickly, and pecked me on the cheek, causing me to turn scarlet. "Anyway, I should - um - go. My knees are killing me."

"Alright," he said, standing up, and waving. "See you soon!"

"See you!" I smiled again, and pulled my head from the fire. Once the horrible sensation was over once more, I fell back on my hands, coughing out soot, but feeling rather fulfilled. I clambered to my feet, grinning from ear to ear, and swept the ash from my t-shirt.

I turned to tell the twins what was going to happen that evening, to see that Ron had left the table and that the pair of them were muttering to each other. They broke off when they saw me watching, but I dismissed their suspicious behaviour, falling back into my seat.

"What does the pretty arse want, then?" Fred asked, and I rolled my eyes.

"Don't call him a -"

"Oh, you two," George sighed, impatiently, sending us both a stern look. "What did Diggory want, Claudia?"

"He's invited me round for a drink tonight whilst his parents are out," I announced, brightly. "He's picking me up at about seven."

George shook his head, evidently annoyed, but Fred simply stared, as though scrutinising me. After a long pause, he finally said, rather surprisingly, "Can I borrow your owl?"

"I - what?" I asked, feeling somewhat wrong footed. Where was his protectiveness? To my alarm, I wished he_ would _fight for me, though I knew I had no right to expect such a thing. "Er, yeah, she's yours."

"Cheers," he said, cheerfully, reaching for the orange juice. "Have fun tonight, won't you?"

"I'm sure I will," I replied, hesitantly. I couldn't explain it, but I was rather dissatisfied by his reaction, even though I hated it when he complained about Cedric. "Who are you writing to, anyway?"

"Oh, just some beautiful, slim girl whose had a crush on me for some time," he winked, stretching lavishly. I glared at him, jealousy blossoming inside of me, like ink spilt into water. It was like he knew the current breakdown that was going on inside of me, as I realised more and more the crush I had on one of my best friends. "Don't scowl, Miss Paisley, it's heavily unattractive."

"Well, I'm glad you think so," I snapped, suddenly, and stood up. "Have fun with your _bimbo_."

"Oh come on," he sighed, exasperated. "It was a joke, you dolt. You don't look unattractive when you scowl, and I'm not writing to any girl. Why are you so grouchy? Are you lovesick?"

"Lovesick?" I echoed, faintly. Did he know what I was feeling, or was I just being paranoid? "I - no, no, of course I'm not. Why would I be?"

"Aren't all the girls at Hogwarts in love with Diggory?"

"Not all of them," I replied, firmly. "I'm going to go and find something to wear. You two be good."

"Find something to -?" George asked, weakly. "It's ten in the morning. You've got hours."

"I - er - I didn't mean something to wear tonight. I meant what to wear for the day," I lied, quickly. "You know I'm not one of those girls to spend hours in front of the mirror for a _boy_."

IIIIIII

"Come on, Claudia!" Fred groaned, knocking on the door again. "You've been hours!"

"_Half_ an hour, actually," I corrected, squinting into the mirror. "Just give me a couple more minutes, alright?"

I heard his exasperated sigh and took it for a yes. There was no way I could leave the bathroom yet. I was sure I looked a right idiot, and if Fred saw me like that he'd never let me live it down. But I felt, for some reason, that I had to make at least a small effort for Cedric. He had invited me round, after all, and it would be rude not to dress up.

Wouldn't it?

Nonetheless, I _had_ dressed up, by my standards, at least. I wore a knee length, black dress with a blue cardigan over the top, and simple blue shoes. Heels were, naturally, out of the question. I had attempted some kind of style with my hair that had failed dramatically, and it hung in useless waves to my shoulders. I wanted curls, and had ended up with a mess. I wore the tiniest bit of make-up, and I felt merely ugly. It was horrible.

Just as I'd decided I really couldn't go anymore, there was a louder knock at the door and Fred shouted, "Come _on_, Claudia, and get out the bathroom. This is my house, I hope you remember."

"Oh, alright," I sighed, irritably. I took one last, miserable look into the mirror, and left the bathroom. "Happy, now?"

"At last!" Fred replied, happily, walking past me. However, he glanced at me when he passed, and froze, eyebrows raising. "What - um - why - why do you look like that?"

"Like what?" I asked, anxiously checking my dress. "Oh, I knew it. I look ridiculous, don't I?"

Blushing as I felt his eyes roaming me, I nervously smoothed down my hair. The crush that had formed the day before had not ebbed away, as I'd hoped - instead, it had gotten stronger. Simply being close to him, and alone, made my heart beat madly and my breath hitch. And now I'd gone and looked disgusting in front of him. I hated myself at that moment.

"Like - well, you look very nice," he said, very quickly, averting his eyes. As I felt a shocked pleasure run through me, staring at him, he laughed nervously and quickly added, "For a girl, that is."

"I - thank you, Fred," I said, softly, not daring to speak any louder. If I did, I felt sure I'd squeak embarrassingly. He grinned winningly and went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. I stared at the door, stunned. Why had he complimented me? I shook my head dismissively, making my way to the stairs. I was oversensitive; he had meant nothing by it, surely.

"You know we're going to get drunk, too, don't you?"

I turned, to see that Fred had popped his head out of the bathroom. Narrowing my eyes, I called back, "Why will you?"

"Well, we're not letting you have all the fun," he winked, a corner of his mouth turning upwards. "We've saved a stash of Firewhisky. I just wanted to let you know in case you come home and wonder why we're acting like lunatics."

"Be careful," I warned, frowning. "If your mum finds out, she'll murder you."

"We'll be fine," he scoffed, and then winked again. "You have a good time tonight, though."

Before I could reply, he had shut the door once more. I stared at the spot for a moment longer, before heaving a heavy sigh and heading again to the stairs. Fred Weasley was unfathomable, at the best of times.

As I was half-way down the staircase, I heard Mrs Weasley call, "Claudia, dear! Cedric is here."

"Oh!" I exclaimed, all feeling being replaced by terror and excitement. "Thank you!"

I rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen, whereupon I stopped abruptly. Mr and Mrs Weasley, Ginny and George (Ron and Percy were both in their rooms) were talking to Cedric, who was stood by the fireplace and looking just about as nervous as I felt. I couldn't understand why, but I did go further into the room, causing everybody to look up.

"Claudia!" Cedric beamed, taking a step towards me. "You look beautiful."

"Oh, thank you," I smiled, nervously. "You look quite nice yourself."

"Cheers," he grinned. "Shall we go?"

When I nodded, he turned to everybody and said, charmingly, "It's been lovely talking to you all. Thanks for letting me borrow Claudia."

"Bye, everyone," I said, meekly. Cedric withdrew some Floo powder from his pocket and handed me some. Everybody waved goodbye, George more reluctant than the rest, and in a minute both Cedric and I were stood in his dining room, alone. I glanced at him, awkwardly, to see him looking at me in much the same manner.

"Er," I said, scratching the back of my neck. Now that I was here, I had no idea what to do or how to act. "Thanks for inviting me round. It was nice of you to think of me, when you could have all the booze for yourself."

"Nonsense," he laughed, taking my arm and leading me into the large and nicely decorated living room. Upon the coffee table sat an alarming amount of Firewhisky stacked on the table. "Anyway, grab yourself a bottle and I'll go and fetch the bottle opener. I can't wait until I'm seventeen and can do it by magic."

As he went off to the kitchen, I nervously lingered in the room. He had a lovely house, large but comfortable, and I couldn't help but feel at home. It had a cheery warmth about it, similar to that of The Burrow. However, after weeks with the Weasleys, this house felt empty. I was so used to having a person wherever I turned, it was odd to be alone in such space.

Luckily, Cedric returned within a minute, throwing a bottle opener into the air and catching it skilfully with the same hand. He paused, grinning, when he saw me standing. "You can sit down, you know. Make yourself at home."

"Oh! Of course. Thanks," I smiled, cheeks going pink. For some reason, I felt on edge as I perched on the comfy, red sofa. There was an awkwardness in the air that I felt horrible aware of. "Um - thanks for inviting me round."

"You've already thanked me," he commented, looking bemused. He sat by me, jean-clad thigh brushing mine. A shock of nerves went through me, and I fidgeted uncomfortably. Why was it suddenly so hot in here? Cedric opened my bottle for me, and then his own, taking a large swig.

I quickly took a gulp of my own, wincing at the taste. I'd drunk it a lot before, of course - I was best friends with the Weasley twins, after all - but I couldn't ever quite get used to the fire that seemed to burn in my throat. It hardly tasted nice, but it did the job of getting you drunker quicker, so I wouldn't complain. I was in the mood to get smashed, what with all the conflicting feelings about boys going through me.

"How are the twins?" Cedric asked, watching me with his slightly head tilted to one side. I was awfully aware of how attractive he looked, in casual jeans and a crumpled jumper, dark hair tousled. Shaking my head to rid myself of such preposterous thoughts, I shrugged.

"Same as always. They want me to learn to fly, now, which can only be a disaster."

"You might be good," he offered, politely, but I just laughed.

"Don't try and make me feel better, really," I grinned, brushing my hair behind an ear. "I know I'm crap at it, and I always _will_ be crap at it, no matter how many times Fred takes me on the back of his broomstick."

Cedric raised an eyebrow, but said nothing to this. We both drank in silence for a minute or two, before he glanced at me, grey eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Tell me, Claudia, have you ever had a drinking competition before?"

I snorted, scornfully. "Are you joking? I'm the _Queen_ of drinking competitions."

"This is Firewhisky, you know," he said, mockingly showing me his bottle. "It's not pumpkin juice or Butterbeer."

"Oh, you're on, Cedric," I laughed, rolling up my sleeves. "You'll pay for ever underestimating the power of Claudia Paisley's liver."

IIIIIII

The room, I realised vaguely, was spinning.

I was pretty sure it wasn't supposed to, and so got sluggishly to my feet, examining the ceiling. The amount of alcohol I'd drank hit me as I did so, and I swayed dangerously, before giving in and falling backwards once more. The sofa was comfortable, and I blinked sleepily, nestling into it.

"I don't understand you," came Cedric's voice from my side, making me look up. "You - you never tip over, do you?"

"What do you mean?"

Cedric shook his head, face red and drunken. "You know. You never tip over. Friends with lots of boys, but it never - never goes further, you know?"

"Shouldn't have to go over," I nodded, wisely. It was hard to see him through the haze of alcohol, but he looked rather confused at what I had said, his eyes a little out of focus. "Why do - do you care, anyway?"

"Lots of girls do," he explained, taking what must have been his hundredth swig of Firewhisky. "It's just - just odd that you don't have a boyfriend when you - you get on with boys a - a lot."

"_You_ get on with lots of - of girls," I protested, drunk enough to get outraged. "You're single. Why - why is that any different, Ced - Cedric?"

"It just is," he replied, stubbornly folding his arms and consequentially spilling some of his drink over himself. "Damn - damn it. Parents might notice. Whoops."

"S'not different," I sighed, resting my head snugly on his shoulder. "Just sexist."

"I'm not sexist!" he exclaimed, staring at me. "Okay, okay, let's - let's prove to each other we don't think we're - we're both hopeless in love, yeah?"

I blinked, far too drunk to know what was going on. "But, I - I don't think you're hopeless in -"

Cedric Diggory then cut off my drunken mumbling quite effectively.

He kissed me.

I let out a squeak of surprise and made to push him off me, but to my surprise I began _kissing back_, wrapping my arms around his neck and opened my mouth to let his tongue dance against mine. He let out a small groan and moved, pressing against me, wrapping his arms around me to pull me even closer.

There as was, drunk out of my mind, entwined with the heartthrob of Hogwarts.

And, as I kissed him passionately, the face that rose into my mind was that of Fred Weasley. No, actually, it wasn't just Fred Weasley. It was me kissing Fred Weasley as I was now kissing Cedric. And that, I realised suddenly, was what I wanted. What I needed. Perhaps it was the alcohol making me think it, but perhaps it was my heart, as pathetic as it sounds.

I removed my hands from around Cedric, and pushed his chest slightly so he lifted himself from me. I hadn't realised he had been laid on top of me as we'd kissed, but now that I did I flushed bright red, shaking my head. He stared down at me, looking concerned but ultimately loving. I couldn't stand lying to him, leading him on.

"Cedric, we - we can't. I don't think I like you in this - this way," I murmured, and he immediately climbed off me, standing unsteadily on his feet. I sat up, clutching my head, which was beginning to spin even more severely. "I'm sorry. It's nothing to do with you."

"S'one of the twins, isn't it?" he asked, smiling sadly. I stared at him, but then shrugged. He probably wouldn't remember it in the morning, but I wouldn't risk telling him the truth when I couldn't even admit it to myself yet. "Okay. Well - well, perhaps you should go, then."

"Cedric!" I said, standing up, and immediately regretting doing so as my stomach lurched. "I don't - I don't _not_ like you, it's just -"

"I'm not kicking you out," he laughed, running a tired hand over his face. "I feel like - like - well, you know how it feels. I think it's time I went - went to bed and sobered up."

"Good idea," I agreed, stumbling over to the fireplace. "I think I'm going to be sick. Thanks for - for having me over."

"My pleasure," he called, sounding sincere. "Sorry about - about what happened. Didn't mean it."

"S'alright," I called back groggily, groping for some Floo powder, and in a few moments I was stepping out into the Weasleys' empty kitchen. Not looking around, I made my way straight up to the twins' bedroom, simply wanting to sleep. I had no idea what I'd say to the two of them, especially if - as I vaguely remembered them saying - they were drunk too. The very thought of more alcohol made me want to throw up.

In such a state as I was in, I barely realised what had just happened. Cedric had kissed me, and I'd pushed him away for Fred, who probably would never _want_ to kiss me? Why the hell had I done that? I couldn't understand myself, and so went up to the second floor, and pushed the bedroom door open.

It was hard to keep my eyes open at this point, so I ignored the twins (who were in fits of hysterical laughter), and collapsed onto my bed. I wanted to cry, I wanted to throw up, and I wanted to sleep. Feeling safer with the latter, I nestled my face into my pillow, and immediately felt unconsciousness steaming towards me.

As it did so, I heard one of the giggling twins ask, "How did it go with Cedric?"

On the verge of dropping off, I murmured, "Kissed him", and then was peacefully, wonderfully asleep.

IIIIIII


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Thanks for all of the lovely reviews and concern. I'm getting better now.

IIIIIIII

I woke early the next morning, when the sunlight barely lit the room and the low, soothing snores of the twins filled the room. I sat up, muscles stiff, and winced. It felt as though somebody had smacked me over the head with a brick. Cursing quietly so as not to wake the twins - who were bound to both tell me it served me right to have a hangover - I climbed out of bed and tried to clear my mind.

Before leaving the bedroom, I cast a glance at the twins. They both looked so innocent when they slept, it was hard to believe the trouble they could cause. As I gazed at Fred, there were the familiar feelings of warmth inside of me, but today it was tainted with something else. Guilt. I couldn't for the life of me remember why, though I had a horrible feeling it had something to do with Cedric.

Leaving the room, I sighed heavily and went to the bathroom. The house seemed still, but not quiet - somewhere, a clock was chiming, and downstairs I could hear a tap running. I guessed Mrs Weasley had risen early to begin a day of chores and cooking. The mere thought of food made me feel nauseated, and so I hastily entered the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

The bathroom was golden in the early morning light, and I paused a moment to take a deep breath, trying to clear myself of the remnants of alcohol surely in me. I crept over to the sink and looked into the mirror - to see a pale, round-faced girl, with a mouth of smudged lipstick and a tangle of brown hair.

Hardly a pretty sight.

With a dismayed shake of my head, I turned on the tap and splashed my face with cold water, hoping to wake myself up. It worked rather too effectively, leaving me spluttering and groping for a towel. With my face dry and blinking blearily, I ran a comb through my hair. The face that gazed back at me then was at least washed, although was still sleep-deprived and slightly green.

I rested my forehead against the cool of the mirror, taking more deep breaths. I knew from experience that moaning about a hangover only made it worse, and so tried my hardest to forget about it. It was harder than I had expected, though, so I settled with trying to sort out the muddle that was last night's events.

Cedric and I had drank a lot, that much I knew. At one point we'd argued about whether or not Hufflepuff was better than Gryffindor, but the argument had ended in laughter. We'd drank some more. After that, things got a bit blurry in my memory, and I closed my eyes to try and bring forth what had happened.

We'd spoken about our friendships with our opposite sexes. Cedric had said that it was weird I didn't have a boyfriend, and I had counted it. But why would that leave me feeling so awful? I couldn't comprehend it. What had happened next? Cedric had said that we had to prove something to each other, and I'd protested, and then he'd leant over and -

"Oh, God," I mumbled, and stumbled backwards as the nausea overcame me at last. Thinking quick, I hastily dropped to my knees in front of the toilet, and a second later I was retching. Up spilled the poisonous Firewhisky still lingering in my blood, up came the memories. I knew exactly why I felt guilty now, as my body heaved horribly.

The bathroom door slammed open as I knelt straighter, wiping my mouth and trembling. In the next moment a warm hand was against my cheek, brushing hair back from my face. I looked up into the concerned though somehow resigned face of Fred Weasley, and smiled weakly in thanks. He smiled back, and glanced behind him, to where I could hear George moving around.

"Are you alright?" Fred asked, laughing slightly. "I didn't know a person could throw up so much. You're either a modern miracle, or you're gross."

"Probably the latter," I admitted, too tired to get annoyed at his insults. "Why are you two up?"

"As if we could sleep whilst you were churning your guts up," George snorted, from behind me. "Though it serves you right for getting smashed. Hopefully, this will teach you in the future to not drink more than you can take."

"How come you two aren't being sick?" I asked, feeling wrong footed. "You two drank too, didn't you?"

"We're real men who can take our drink," Fred announced, proudly. At my indignant glare, he grinned and added, "Alright, we just didn't drink. Couldn't be arsed, and we knew that you'd come back in a state so we thought it best to be sober for you. Didn't want to be taken advantage of, after all."

"I wouldn't take advantage of --"

I began to heave again, causing Fred to hiss sympathetically and hold my hair back once more. Once I was done throwing up for the second time, I sat up, shaking my head. "God, I'm sorry. I didn't meant to get so pissed. Anyway, I'm not the sort to take advantage of people, it'd be the other way round if anything."

"Yes, actually, that's something else we need to talk to you about," George interrupted loudly, from the back of the room. I couldn't tell if it was the light or not, but I felt sure Fred went a little red at the statement. "You and Diggory. Did he take advantage of you?"

"I - of course not!" I exclaimed, taking the tissue Fred kindly handed me and wiping my mouth. "Why would you think that? Why would you even think anything happened?"

"If we didn't, we'd know by how defensive you're getting," George laughed, and I heard him sigh. "Well, there is the small matter of you coming into the room last night and telling us you'd kissed him."

"Oh God, did I?" I muttered, inwardly cursing myself for being so stupid. Now the gits were bound to get all protective, which was the last thing I wanted. I just wanted to forget it. "It doesn't matter, though. It was just a kiss, and it won't happen again."

"Good," Fred replied fervently. I looked up at him sharply, searching for signs of things I knew couldn't be there. It was just my damn hopes rising for nothing, surely. He shrugged when I looked at him, and with a furtive glance back at George, murmured, "I just mean that it might have upset people more than you know."

"I - what?" I asked, following his gaze to see a frowning George. My heart felt as though it were plummeting through my body as I pieced together what exactly he'd just said whilst looking at his twin. It might have upset _George_? When I looked at him I felt nothing but a food friendship. He just couldn't like me, surely…

"Better out than in," Fred said cheerfully, patting my back as I began to vomit for the third time.

IIIIIII

"Claudia, dear, are you sure you're well? You look rather peaky," Mrs Weasley commented, inspecting me as she laid out a plate of eggs and toast in front of me. Trying not to pull a face at the breakfast, I shrugged, picking up a fork. "Really, did you not get a lot of sleep last night?"

"I'm alright," I lied, trying to wear a brave smile. "I just feel a little ill, there's no need to worry."

"If you're sure." She pursed her lips, but carried on dishing out breakfast for everybody. I sunk low in my seat and rolled my fork around my plate, knowing I wouldn't be able to keep any food down. It was a Saturday and so the table was full with the Weasleys, providing enough distraction to keep the eyes off of me.

Mr Weasley and Ron were talking about the upcoming Quidditch World Cup final, which Mr Weasley said he might be able to get tickets for. Ginny and Percy were discussing Hogwarts and the career prospects from different subjects. Mrs Weasley was settling in her seat, breakfast in front of her. The twins were, naturally, laughing about something or other.

I studied the two of them, a crease in my forehead. When I looked at Fred I couldn't help but feel oddly excited, however horrible the feeling was. Yet when I looked at George, I felt guilty. I didn't know if he liked me, but what Fred said led me to believe so. Deep down I knew I felt nothing in that way for George, whatsoever. Perhaps, I thought hopefully, he _didn't_ like me, and it was just me being hung-over and silly in my suspicions.

"Oh, look, an owl!" Ginny said, suddenly, pointing outside. "It's not Errol, is it?"

"No, I only sent Errol off an hour or so ago to Muriel," Mrs Weasley replied, squinting out of the window. "Isn't that your owl, Claudia?"

"Yeah, that's Pigeon," I commented, as the owl landed clumsily on the table. "It must be her reply from - well, whoever Fred sent her to."

I looked questioningly at him, but he tapped his nose in an infuriatingly secretive manner. He untied his letter, and I looked back down at my breakfast, feeling too ill to argue today. If he wanted to be a complete arse and not tell me who he was writing to, then why should I care? I _did_ care, of course, but nonetheless, I wouldn't show it.

To my surprise, Pigeon hopped over the table towards me. I shooed her away, causing her to nip me sharply on the wrist with her beak. I winced, but held my swearing in (I was in the presence of Mr and Mrs Weasley, after all). "What's wrong with you, Pigeon?"

"Looks like you've got a letter, too," Fred remarked, unfolding his own. Surprised, I looked down at my owl to see that he was right. But that meant that whoever Fred had written to had written to me, too. Grinning triumphantly - I'd finally know who he'd been writing to - I untied my letter, and gazed at the address.

It was my father's handwriting.

I opened it and read it, slowly, wondering why on earth Fred had written to him, and how on earth the letter had arrived so quickly from the North of England. The latter question was answered as I red that the family were taking a trip in Cornwall, staying with none other than the Malfoys, in their holiday home. I wrinkled my nose and made a sound of disgruntlement, causing George to look up.

"What's up?"

"My dad's staying with the Malfoys," I commented, as though I had a bad taste in my mouth. "He never learns. I always tell him what a load of gits they are, but he just tells me to stop being rude."

"I'm surprised such a nice man like your father can be friends with Lucius Malfoy," Mr Weasley sighed, polishing his glasses on his worn robes and looking troubled. "Lucius Malfoy is a foul man, and it's evident he has never come back from the Dark Arts. I am afraid the wizarding world doesn't seem to agree."

"When I was little and he came round, I was always afraid of him," I laughed, thinking of how I'd used to run. "He's always seemed strange. I never know whether or not to trust him or not."

"His son's an idiot, too," Ron added, thickly, as his mouth was full of egg and toast. "I hate him."

"To be honest, he's always seemed harmless to me," I shrugged, thinking of the pale, blonde boy two years younger than me. "I mean, I don't have to deal with him much at school, but when he comes round with his parents he always seems pleasant enough. Doesn't talk a lot, but he's never rude."

"He's rude at school, believe me," Ron muttered, darkly, but left the topic. I felt a bit better now, and was about to attempt to eat before a thought struck me, and I gazed at Fred, thoroughly suspicious. He was reading his letter still, with a slight smile on his face.

As the rest of the table got on with their own discussions again, I nudged his leg under the table, causing up to look up, curious. "Fred, why on earth were you writing to my father?"

He stared at me, expression perfectly innocent. "I wasn't."

"But there wasn't enough time for Pigeon to deliver to two different people," I snapped, rather annoyed at the lack of information I was getting from him. "You really didn't write to my dad?"

"Nope," he said, dismissively, looking back down at his letter. I frowned at him for a while longer, trying to work it out. He'd lied enough times to get out of pranks, that I couldn't be sure if he was telling the truth or not. But why _would_ he lie? It seemed stupid, and there was no possible explanation I could find for it all.

I considered, for a moment, who else he could have written to. My father was supposedly exempt, as was Catherine. The Malfoys were most certainly not an option, unless Fred somehow was betraying his family, which I sincerely doubted. That left Polly and Diane. I couldn't imagine him even talking to Diane in passing, let alone writing to her. So, could it be…?

"You wrote to Polly?" I asked, alarmed at how sulky my tone was. I didn't believe that he had written to her, but I couldn't think of another option. He didn't look up, immersed in his letter. "Fred, did you write to Polly?"

"Er -" he looked up from the letter, evidently distracted and not really listening. "Er, yeah, I did."

"I -" my mind strayed back to the day before, when Fred had first asked if he could borrow my owl, and I'd asked who he'd wanted to write to. What had he said then, seemingly jokingly? _Just some beautiful, slim girl whose had a crush on me for some time. _All of a sudden, it felt as though some heavy, indescribable weight had dropped inside of me.

Jealously. It had begun to wrap it's poisonous fingers around me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Weasley," I said, quietly, standing up. "Breakfast looks lovely, but I don't think I'm feeling too well."

"That's alright, dear," Mrs Weasley said, looking at me, anxiously. "You go and get some rest, I thought you looked rather ill."

"I will, thanks," I smiled. I left the room as quickly as I could, without a backward glance at either twin, wondering why I felt so downtrodden and upset, simply because Fred had written to prettier, older stepsister.

IIIIIII

I lay on my bed, feeling sick and very self-pitying. I couldn't see Polly and Fred ever getting along for more than thirty seconds; they were just so different. But Polly had admitted before I'd left for The Burrow that she had a crush on the twins, hadn't she? And Fred was a hormonal, teenage boy, who was bound to fancy stunning girls. Polly was beautiful, when I really thought about it, and I knew that Fred would most likely be attracted to her.

Damn, damn and damn again.

I found myself thinking, then, of Cedric. Cedric who had seemed so sad when I'd pushed him off, but accepting. Cedric who was lovely, handsome and sweet to me. I'd stopped the kiss because I thought I might have the slightest chance with Fred - now that was blown to smithereens, what was stopping me telling Cedric I liked him?

I didn't like him anywhere near as much as I liked Fred, but he was still the best looking boy in school, and he evidently felt _something _for me. The more I thought about it, the stupider I felt for rejecting him. I made up my mind, there and then, to write to him and apologise, and admit my feelings for him.

I got off of the bed and took a deep, calming breath. I could do this, couldn't I? I could ruin any chance of dating Fred, and quite possibly lessen my friendship with both him and George, for Cedric, couldn't I? Well, I thought sternly, making my way to the door, I didn't have a choice. I couldn't show Fred he was getting to me, that was the only thing I could be sure of.

Before I could leave the door, however, it slammed open, revealing Fred and George, talking and laughing. They drew up short when they saw me, falling silent. There was tension between the three of us, making us awkward and rather less carefree than usual. Where had our light-hearted friendship gone? I smiled, bravely, and they quickly grinned.

"I'm going to reply to my letter," Fred announced, pushing past me into the room. He stopped half-way across it, and turned, looking at me with a hopeful smile. I felt an odd jolt in my stomach, but resolutely ignored it. "D'you reckon you could give me some privacy whilst I do so? It doesn't concern you or anything, I just can't concentrate with other people in the room."

The jolt fizzled out, replaced by venom. Folding my arms, I protested, "Your mother sent me up here to rest. Are you really going to kick me out?"

"Why don't we go for a walk?" George intervened quickly, taking my arm. "We'll feed the chickens or something. Best not to get in an argument when you're hung-over, yeah?"

"Oh, fine," I snapped, giving a now sheepish-looking Fred one last glare. "Let's go feed the bloody chickens and leave the arse to write to his precious _Polly_."

I turned on my heel and left the room before Fred could say anything in reply. George tagged alongside me as I went to the garden, but I could barely look at him. If my wild thoughts about crushes were true, he might seek to comfort me - and I didn't want him to like me. I had no idea what I wanted anymore.

And my bloody head was _killing_ thanks to all the Firewhisky I'd consumed the night before.

The garden was bright and beautiful, the August sun high above it. I had no appreciation for any of it, though, and simply sat against the broom shed, hugging my knees to my chest. I was acting like a stroppy child and I damn well knew it, but I felt so sick and fed up that I couldn't care less.

George lingered on his feet for a moment, obviously nervous about so much as talking to me whilst I was in such a foul mood, but eventually gave in and sat down opposite me. He picked a few strands of grass, biting his lip, before grimacing and asking, "You alright?"

"Your twin is such an idiot," I muttered, following suit and pulling out a few clumps of grass myself. "I don't know whether or not to go out with Cedric. I hate my step-sister and think she deserves to get disfigured. I keep throwing up and my head feels like I've been punched several times. But yeah, I'm fine."

"Um." George blinked, evidently having not expected such a reaction. "Well - I - er -"

"Don't worry about it," I said, resting my head against the brick of the broom shed and sighing heavily. "It's my fault, really. If I hadn't drank such a lot last night, I wouldn't be feeling so messed up now."

"I dunno if I can help you much, I've never been much of a guide through troubled times," he remarked, smiling faintly. "I have a question for you, though. It's a bit awkward, so don't jump to any stupid conclusions, alright?"

"Alright then," I replied, slowly. The way he had phrased it made me dread whatever the question would be. If it would complicate things any further, I had a horrible feeling I might burst into tears. Not the best idea in the world, especially when dealing with the Weasley twins.

"I was wondering," George said, and it sounded as though he were thinking alive, "if, hypothetically, you'd ever date a Weasley twin."

I stared at him for a moment, stunned. The fact that _George Weasley_ was talking about dating, and me, in the same sentence with a straight face had rendered me momentarily speechless. Momentarily being the key word, there.

"What the _hell_, George?" I hissed, cheeks flushing. "I've just told you how crap everything is, and you have to go and make everything worse!"

He didn't flinch at my anger, but merely gave me a stern look. "Now, now, I did nothing of the sort. I asked a simple, hypothetical question, and you know full well you're overreacting to it."

"I'm not overreacting," I lied, sulkily. "But why ask something like that? George, look, I'm really sorry but I don't - oh, never mind."

"You don't what?" George asked, curiously. "If the answer is no, you can just say."

"I don't know what the answer is," I replied, miserably. "It's just - look, it's nothing personal but - well -"

"Oh come _on_," he tutted, impatiently, tapping me on the jean-clad knee. "Spit it out. I won't get offended if you say no. It was a completely hypothetical -"

"I'm sorry, George, but I don't fancy you," I said, quickly, and cringed. I felt absolutely horrible for saying so, even though I had to tell him the truth before he told _me_ the truth. I waited an awkward moment or two, before opening my eyes tentatively to see what his reaction was.

He was laughing.

I gaped at him, astonished. I'd rejected him, and he was laughing? True, he was George Weasley and so his natural reaction was probably to laugh at anything, but surely even _he_ wasn't _that_ tough. When he clutched his sides, gasping for breath, I frowned and prodded him sharply in the shoulder, infuriated at his manner.

"What's so funny?" I grumbled, somewhat hurt.

He shook his head, grinning. "Is that what you've been so annoyed about? I hate to break it to you, but I don't fancy you either. You're like an annoying brat of a sister to me, you know that."

Relief flooded through me, and I laughed myself, before catching it in my throat. Fred and George were, in a lot of respects, the same person. If George felt that I was a sister to him, there was practically no chance of Fred thinking different, was there? George, seeing my sudden crestfallen expression, furrowed his brow.

"What? I didn't mean it about the annoying -"

"Does Fred feel the same way?" I asked, and immediately wished I could bite off my tongue and take it back. George gazed at me for a moment, as though scrutinising me carefully, but then his expression smiled and he grinned, widely. "What? Why are you smiling like that?"

"Oh, nothing," he said, in an annoying sing-song voice. "We'll keep this between the two of us, shall we?"

"Keep what between the two of us?" I asked quickly, heart beating slightly quicker.

"Oh, nothing," he repeated, springing to his feet. "All I can say is forget about Diggory, alright? He's not worth you."

"Wait!" I called, as he began to walk away. "What on earth do you mean? Don't just _leave_, I want to know -"

"Your secret is safe with me!" he shouted back, winking, and sprinted back to the house, leaving me feeling sick, dizzy, but oddly happier than I had felt all day.

IIIIIIII

**A/N:** Hmm, mysterious letter-writing business, eh? I'm so excited - next chapter, Fred plucks up the courage to admit the truth. :D

IIIIIIII


	10. Chapter 10

IIIIIII

**A/N: **Hello! Sorry I've been away a long time, I've been on holiday and have had one too many essays to write. Enjoy!

IIIIIII

The 18th of August bought with it two young men I hadn't seen in years - Bill and Charlie Weasley. Bill was eight years older than me, now twenty four. He was extremely handsome, with long red hair and a friendly smile. He greeted me politely, as we'd only met twice when I was eleven and twelve. Charlie, who was now twenty two, looked rather like the twins and treated me like an old friend - we had spent a couple of years at Hogwarts together, although he had, of course, been several years above me.

However happy everybody was to see the two of them, however, it did lead to some problems, for which I felt mostly to blame. The Burrow was already packed with eight people, but with ten it was rather outdoing itself. I offered to go home, anxious not to much too much strain on Mrs Weasley when she had to cook and clean, but my offer was shouted down immediately.

Mr Weasley, it transpired, had managed to get a number of tickets for the Quidditch World Cup from a friend, Ludo Bagman - eleven tickets, in fact, and all in the Top Box. I was rather dreading it, despite the excited talk surrounding me, as we'd be at a ridiculous height. I'd said I'd sacrifice my ticket, but quickly shut up at the glares I received from Fred and George.

In fact, we ended up having two spare tickets, as Mrs Weasley didn't want to go. Ron quickly asked if he could have them for his friends, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, and everyone consented. It looked set to be fun - in everyone's eyes but mine, of course.

Despite this, the summer had improved dramatically since my discussion with George. There had been no more mysterious correspondence between Fred and Polly, and no mention of it from anybody. Fred had returned to his bright and mischievous self, and I had no further bouts of sickness. It was almost like old times, except for the mounting crush I had on him.

All in all, though, I'd decided not to bother with boys. Even if I fancied Fred, and definitely felt _something _for Cedric, why should I act on it? I was perfectly happy being friends with everybody, and always had been, and so I made a note to banish the thoughts from my mind. It wasn't particularly easy, especially as Fred seemed to be in an excellent mood constantly, and he looked and sounded so lovely when he laughed.

Bad thoughts, Claudia, bad thoughts.

Still, all that aside, the summer seemed to be coming to a nice end. I was dreading lessons, and hardly looking forward to the World Cup, but it was the best ending I could have hoped for. We had ten or so days left, yes, but it didn't seem like much.

In my naivety, I believed that nothing much could happen in such a short space of time.

IIIIIII

I stepped out of The Burrow on the 19th, whistling cheerily to myself. All of the Weasley children (except for Percy, who was at work, and Ginny, who was with her mother) were outside, having fun and laughing. I was in an oddly good mood, and went to join them, almost - but not quite - carefree.

I was rather less inclined to feel happy, however, when I was suddenly covered head to toe in icy cold water.

Spluttering indignantly, I staggered backwards, wondering who on _earth_ had been stupid enough to do such a thing. I decided, as I pushed my sopping wet hair from my eyes and looked up, that whoever it was would suffer. Slowly, and painfully. Until they _died_.

As I looked up, scowling and red-faced, my eyes met those of a certain Fred Weasley, and I decided that perhaps death was a tad harsh and maybe torture would suffice. Then again, he was smiling rather attractively as he walked up to me, so maybe I wouldn't punish him at all.

Shaking my head to partly rid myself of stupid thoughts, and partly dry my hair off, I put my hands on hips and glared at him as he came to a halt before me. He was rather wet himself, but still looked happy, and he ran a hand through his red hair, evidently wondering what to say to try and calm me down. "Er - care to join us?"

"Join you?" I asked, anger fading as I frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

"We're having a water fight," he winked, looking my dripping form up and down. "You deserve to join in, I reckon, to get revenge on the vile cur who threw a water balloon at you."

I eyed him, suspiciously. His eyes were dancing with laughter and he looked far too happy, even for him. Slowly, I replied, "It was evidently _you_ who threw the balloon."

He clutched at his chest, dramatically, but when I gave no sign of sympathy, he shrugged his shoulders, grinning. "Fair enough. It was me. But come and play, won't you? I'm losing dramatically - you can tell by how drenched I am - and I'd love a little back up."

"Oh, alright then," I sighed, though inside felt a pleasant little skip. He grinned even wider and took my hand, leading me further into the garden, towards his siblings. I went rather pink at he handholding - bad, Claudia, _bad _- but this went unnoticed as the first waves of water crashed over us.

Any reservations I may have had were soon swept away. It was immense fun, however cold I felt when I got caught by a balloon. Fred and George had prepared loads of them me, Ron and the two of them to use. Bill and Charlie, having left Hogwarts, were simply using their wands to squirt water onto the lot of us, though they'd been banned from deflecting our balloons because it was so unfair.

The morning filtered by quickly owing to how much fun we were having. We'd settled into teams; Fred, George and I versus Ron, Bill and Charlie. The other team was winning by far, but it wasn't from our lack of trying. Fred and George were amazing shots, and I was more of a hindrance than anything else, but the twins' jibes bounced off of me. Everything was returning to normal, and I was thrilled.

Ginny came out into the garden at midday, and instantly got soaked from a rather wild throw that had come from Ron. She screamed and spent the next five minutes chasing her older brother round the garden, whilst everyone else tried not to collapse from laughter. Eventually, she tired of running, told us all that lunch was ready, and stormed back into the house.

We all followed, smiling and talking, but out of the corner of my eye I noticed George mutter something to Fred and they both cast a knowing look at me. I glared at them, suspiciously, but they merely beamed and pulled me into the house for food.

IIIIIII

Half-way through lunch, Mrs Weasley gave a tired, weary little sigh and looked around at us all. "We'll have to sort out bedroom arrangements. With all these extra people, we're going to have to have a lot of shared rooms."

As Charlie and Bill had arrived late the night before, they had slept on the sofa's, but had woken complaining of aching muscles and stiff necks. With only a few rooms in the house, I was rather interested to know how exactly we'd all fit in them.

"Harry and Hermione are arriving in two days, don't forget," Ron said, looking rather excited at the prospect of having friends round. "We'll have to put them somewhere, too."

Mrs Weasley pursed her lips, evidently deep in thought. Finally, she sighed again. "Fred, George and Harry will have to share your room with you, Ron. It'll be a tight squeeze, but I'm sure you'll all manage. Bill and Charlie can have the twins' room. Hermione and Ginny - it's ever such a small bedroom, isn't it? - will have to share Ginny's room."

"Hang on," Fred said, rather loudly. "That leaves Percy and Claudia. They're not going to be sharing a room, are they?"

Alarmed at the thought, I spluttered a little on the lemonade I'd been taking a sip on. George thumped me on the back, causing me to choke even more, and once I was done almost dying, I glowered at him, before turning my attention back to Mrs Weasley. How awkward would it be to share with Percy? He'd go on and on about his boring job, and then there was the trouble with the kiss earlier in the summer. How _thrilling_ an experience that would be.

"Oh no, of course not," Mrs Weasley smiled, after ensuring I hadn't choked to death. "I rather thought Percy needed his room to himself, what with all the work he's taken on recently. Claudia will have to have Arthur and I's room. We can sleep in the living room."

"No," I said, immediately. "Really, I'll sleep on the settee. I don't care."

"We don't want you to have an uncomfortable sleep, dear," Mrs Weasley replied, anxiously. "Arthur and I don't mind -"

"Seriously, I won't let you give up your bedroom just for me," I said, firmly. "I don't mind the front room. I'm sure I'll be comfortable."

"If you're sure, dear," Mrs Weasley smiled, sounding rather relieved. "Well, that's that sorted. I've got a few jobs that need to be done before tomorrow, if you all don't mind?"

We all said we didn't, and she began to hand them out, summoning a rather long list from her bedroom. As she spoke to Bill and Charlie, I drummed my fingers against the table, thinking about the World Cup. Cedric had mentioned, on that eventful night, that he was going to be going and that we'd probably be getting the same Portkey there.

If that was true, I was dreading the stupid Quidditch match even more. We hadn't corresponded since the drunken night in which we'd kissed, and I felt that a couple of days just wasn't long enough by far to prepare myself. Things were bound to be horribly awkward, and it was sure to wake up the feelings I had for him. Then, on top of it all, I was terrified of how the overprotective Fred and George would act towards him, knowing he'd technically gotten me drunk and kissed me.

The whole thing was a bloody mess, and I just couldn't be arsed to deal with it.

"Claudia, George, would you mind feeding the chickens for me?" Mrs Weasley asked, breaking me from my self-pitying thoughts. I shared a look with George, and we nodded together, getting up from the table and heading outside.

The day was still bright and sunny, and as we headed for the chicken coop, George began to whistle. Even though he was one of the cheeriest people to be found in the wizarding world, I couldn't help but wonder what was making him so damn happy today. Whenever I'd seen him or his twin, they'd been grinning enthusiastically and laughing, or sharing significant looks.

I had a horrible, yet familiar, feeling that a prank was going to be set in motion at any moment - and it would be _me_ it was aimed at.

"Tell me now then," I ordered, as we unlatched the gate to the chickens. "What's going to happen to me?"

"Sorry?" he asked, looking bemused at my sudden question.

I swiped him on the arm, impatiently. "What prank have you and Fred planned to execute today?"

He frowned, reaching for some of the chicken food and scattering it across the yard for the free-range hens. "What d'you mean?"

"Well, you've both been annoyingly excitable today and you keep looking at me," I explained, wondering how long he'd play dumb. From experience, I knew that it could take a _long_ time to break his put-on innocence, not that I wasn't determined to try. "I'm not stupid. I know you're plotting something."

"We're not, in that sense," George shrugged, watching the hens fight over the food with a mildly interested expression. When he evidently sensed me shooting daggers at him, he fixed me with a stern look. "I'm being honest. There's no _prank _planned today."

He made to walk back to the house, but I hurried after him, trying to comprehend what the emphasis on 'prank' could have meant. "Hang on, d'you mean you are actually planning something?"

"Maybe," he said, breezily.

"What is it?"

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough," he grinned, an excited glint back in his eyes. At my frustrated growl, he ruffled my hair with a freckled hand and practically skipped back into the house, my glare burning into him all the way.

Before I could follow after him, however, Fred came out of the house. I paused when I saw him, feeling my heart skip a beat. Pushing down the stupid, warm feelings inside, I grinned at him and he walked over to me, hands shoved in his pockets.

"You don't mind sleeping on the couch, do you? You can have my bed," he offered, unusually concerned. I resisted rolling my eyes - the twins were confusing me today, there was no doubt about it.

"Nah, I don't mind, but thanks for the offer."

"If you're sure," he shrugged, and then squinted up at the sun. "D'you want to do some flying? We've not been out together for ages, and I promised you I'd get you confident on a broom."

The thought of being so close to Fred made me both petrified and excited, but I made my face simply cheerful. I knew that if I could be touching him like that, and resist doing something stupid and admitting how much I liked him, then everything would be okay. "Sure. Sounds good."

"Awesome," he grinned, and led the way to the broom closet. I noted, as I followed him, that his red hair glistened nicely in the August weather, and had the bizarre desire to run my fingers through it. Blushing - and hoping it could be blamed on the warm weather - I looked away. Those sorts of thoughts were dangerous.

In a moment, Fred had retrieved his broomstick and climbed expertly upon it. I gazed at him for a moment, before giving myself a bracing shake and perching behind him. I tried to keep as much distance between us as possible, for fear of doing something ridiculous.

He looked over his shoulder, and raised an eyebrow. He smirked at my stiff attitude, and blew the hair from his eyes. "Something wrong?"

"Nope," I lied, trying to look innocent. "How come?"

"Well, you're not holding on," he explained, leaning over and tapping my head as though I was stupid. "Unless you want to fall off, I thought you'd be doing so."

"Er." I hesitated, but finally gave in and slipped my arms around his waist, scooting forwards a little. He relaxed, threw me a grin, and kicked off from the ground. I felt the familiar, unpleasant lurching sensation in my stomach, and winced. It had suddenly struck me why I had always hated flying - it wasn't fun; it was downright horrible and dangerous.

Fred seemed to have decided that he had to make up for our lack of flying recently, and lifted the broomstick to around ten feet from the ground. I grimaced as he did so, and closed my eyes. If I didn't look at the ground, I'd be fine. He began to hum, cheerily, to himself, as I buried my face into his back to avoid looking down.

"I can't believe we're going to the World Cup soon," he said, suddenly, in an awed voice. I groaned, slightly, already bored with the subject. Sensing my irritation, he sighed and muttered, "Well, I think you'll enjoy yourself. Stop being so stubborn."

"Oh, I'm sure that'll -" I began to reply scathingly, when I remembered my manner. The Weasleys were inviting me with them when there was no need to, and anybody else would be thrilled. I was being downright ungrateful, and suddenly felt ashamed. "I guess you're right. I'll probably have a nice time."

"What?" Fred asked, obviously startled that I had given in so easily. "Since when do you agree with me without pushing me over first?"

"It's too high to push you over," I explained, smugly, and I could somehow feel him grinning. We continued to glide over the garden, and eventually the worry gnawing at me in the pit of my stomach faded. It was madness, but I was somehow getting used to the feeling of flying at this height. I'd never admit it to anybody, of course. "How are the joke products doing?"

"Perfect, thanks," Fred replied, enthusiastically. "Well, I mean, you've seen most of it happen. But we did some the other day whilst you were helping Mum do the shopping, and it's going just as we planned. I just hope she doesn't find out."

"If you're more careful this time, I'm sure she won't," I reasoned, although I had a horrible feeling she would. She seemed to know exactly whenever any of her children had done anything wrong. It was rather scary, come to think of it. "Still planning to sell them at Hogwarts?"

"'Course," he snorted, as though shocked he even needed to be asked. "I keep telling you, George and I are being serious about going into the business. It'll be great, you'll see. You'll see something even more amazing in a couple of days, though. Just you wait."

"Amazing? It what sense?" I asked, hoping the mystery excitement could finally be explained. "Is it a prank? If so, it better not involve _me_."

"Yes, it's a prank, but no, it doesn't involve you," he laughed, sending me a wink over his shoulder. I felt my cheeks glow warm, and winced again. I was being so bloody obvious, it was surprising that Fred didn't just point and laugh at me there and then for being such a stupid girl. I was acting like I was _five,_ for goodness sake.

With a sigh, I tried to stir myself from my silly thoughts. I glanced around, looking at the trees across the orchard. We were just above the level of the branches, and the apples were small and green, beginning to ripen into a juicy red colour. Staring at them, I frowned. Something was wrong. If we were above the level of the trees, which were bloody _huge_, then that meant…

A sick, dreadful feeling deep in the pit of my stomach, I hesitantly looked down at the ground.

We were about fifty feet in the air.

I screamed and tightened my grip around Fred's waist, dramatically. He instinctively jumped at the loud sound and momentarily lost control of the broomstick - sending it, and us, soaring to the ground.

I screamed again as we zoomed to the floor, swearing explicitly in my head and holding on to Fred for dear life. At the last moment, he gained control of himself and made us swerve dangerously above the grass, steadying us. Despite being a little high from the ground, I threw myself from the broom, fell heavily, and clambered to my feet.

"You arse!" I shouted, the moment I was safely back in the grass. "You absolute arse! What the hell do you think you were doing?"

He landed on the ground, a guilty expression meeting my red-cheeked glare. "I didn't realise we were going high up, honestly. I just forgot -"

"Oh, well, good for you," I snapped, breathing heavily, my chest heaving. "I don't think I've ever been so scared in my life! I hope you're proud of yourself!"

"No, look, I'm -"

"No, _you_ look! I can't believe you claim to have just _forgot_," I ranted, crossing my arms to try and stem the heavy, clumsy breathing. "Haven't I made it completely clear, a thousand times, that I hate heights? So what do you go and do? Almost kill me by dropping me fifty feet!"

"I didn't mean -"

"We could have died! I can't - I can't - _God_, you're so -"

"Claudia!" he said, suddenly, and gripped my shoulders. I fell silent mid-insult, as he gazed into my eyes. Instantly, all the anger seemed to fade from my body, leaving me with a faint embarrassment at my overreaction. "Look, calm down, alright? I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention."

Looking away, sheepishly, I pulled myself from him and muttered, "Okay. It's okay."

"Good," he grinned, sweeping a hand through his red hair. "Er, I'd say it'd be safer to lock the broom away."

"I agree," I nodded, still not meeting my eye. I felt rather cruel for having yelled at him, and my heart was still beating rather fast - if from fright or the crush, I couldn't quite tell. "I'll take Ron's, shall I? He's left it out in the grass."

"Oh, thanks," he smiled, as I picked it up. "You can use it, if you want. We could have a race, and -"

"Let's just put them away," I said, weakly, in no mood for joking. I wanted to go up to bed and curl up, forgetting how dramatic I'd just been. It was amazing, if rather unnerving, how Fred could provoke such violent emotions in me - and drain them away with a look. We made our way in silence to the broom shed, which we reached in a minute or so.

Fred entered and set about putting his broom neatly with the others. I squeezed in at his side, chest brushing against his arm, to put Ron's with the rest of them. He stilled at the contact, and then, dropping his broom, grabbed my arm sharply. I blinked at the contact, dropping Ron's broom in surprise.

"Fred?" I asked, uncertainly. There was a strange, almost dark expression on his face, and for some absurd reason I felt a flicker of fear inside. "Are you okay? Got a splinter somewhere particularly painful?"

"Can you meet me in the orchard in an hour? The far side, where no one really goes."

His voice was hoarse, and trembling. I'd never heard him speak like that before, and before I knew what I was doing, I'd said, "Yes, of course."

"I'll see you then," he said, and without a backward glance he hastily left the shed and practically sprinted back to the house, leaving me blinking in his wake; nervous, blushing and more than a little confused.

IIIIIII

An hour later, I nervously went out into the garden, scenario after scenario running through my mind. He didn't want me to stay anymore. He was dating Polly. He hated me. He was going to tell me he'd _never_ liked me, and felt sorry for me. Biting my lip, I slowly walked across the back yard, towards the orchard.

I'd spent the hour with Ginny in her room, helping her to set up a bed for Hermione. She seemed to realise something was wrong, because she kept asking me if I was okay, but I just shrugged and said the hot weather was getting to me. She'd accepted the answer well enough, but still seemed suspicious.

Why on earth had Fred suddenly changed, and wanted me to meet him? Why couldn't he just say what he wanted to say in the shed? Why the hell was I so _nervous_?

I reached the edge of the garden, next to the shed, and took a tentative peek into the orchard. I could see Fred at the other side, his back to me, seemingly staring into the sky. Fighting down the bizarre urge to be, sick, I opened my mouth to shout greetings, and lifted a foot to start to go meet him.

That was when there was a sharp pain in the back of my head, I felt myself crumpling to the ground, and everything went black.

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**A/N:** Don't hate me for the cliffhanger! Please review, though. xD

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	11. Chapter 11

_I entered the orchard, my heart beating so fast I thought it was going to burst. Never had the walk between the trees taken so long; my feet felt like lead, and it was almost painful to drag them along. But the sight of Fred, his back to me, his red hair shining, kept me going._

"_Fred!" I called to him as I neared, and he turned. Our eyes met and he smiled, widely, sending a flock of birds wild in my stomach. "What's all this about, then?"_

_He did answer immediately, but turned away and went into the trees. I could hear movement and soft voices, and suspicion stung me painfully. Craning my neck to see what was going on, I began to wonder who on earth would hide in the trees. Everyone else in the family was at work or inside, I'd thought._

_A minute later Fred emerged, grin having blossomed into a beam, and behind him, clutching his hand possessively, stood my eldest stepsister. Her blonde hair looked beautiful in the sunlight, and her blue eyes were glittering smugly. She leant over to Fred - being a smidge taller than him - and pressed a kiss to his cheek._

"_Claudia," he said, in a proud voice, and motioned to the smirking Polly. "Polly and I are going out. George, Lee and I have decided that it's about time she replaced you in the group. You've got a bit boring, you know?"_

"_What?" I asked, feeling the blood drain from my face. "Fred, what - what are you on about?"_

_Instead of replying, though, he pulled Polly closer to him, and their lips met in a passionate kiss, and I -_

My eyes flickered open, and I let out a low groan. Before I was even fully awake, nausea and pain shot through me, causing me to sit up sharply. I let out another groan immediately, as my head felt like I'd been spun in circles for hours on end. My mouth was dry and my muscles achy, and I blinked blearily, trying to get accustomed with the light.

Problem was, there _was_ no light.

Of course, me being me, I began to panic. Why the hell had I woken up, after that weird pain in my head, somewhere pitch black? What the hell was going on? Tentatively, I reached my hands out either side of me, and felt for my surroundings. Before I started to hyperventilate, which was bound to happen, I thought I ought to establish just where I was.

One hand brushed against what was evidently some kind of wooden wall, and the other against a number of long, wooden implements. I moved my other hand to them, trying to work out what on earth they could be. After a minute or two of groggily wondering, it suddenly clicked. They were brooms.

Did that mean I was in the broom shed? The unconsciousness had come about next to it, and I couldn't imagine where else I could be with brooms inside of wooden walls. Alright, Claudia, no need to panic. Just open the door and get out.

I clambered unsteadily to my feet, head spinning alarmingly, and took a few deep breaths to steady myself. I could start to think about what had happened once I was back outside. I stepped forward uncertainly, my arms outstretched to reach the door. It only took two steps for me to have grabbed the handle. Feeling relieved, I shook it - and the door didn't open.

I swore, loudly, and kicked it in frustration. Since when did they lock the broom shed? Especially in the afternoon, when I'd only been in here an hour or so ago. I guess it depended how long I'd been out cold, but it couldn't be _that_ long, surely? Gnawing on the inside of my lip, I tapped my foot and folded my arms, fighting hard against the sick feelings inside and the soreness of the back of my head.

A sudden inspiration hit me, and my hand flew to my pocket to withdraw my wand - and I found that nothing was there. Casting my mind back, I remembered that I'd left it in the bedroom. How bloody _perfect_. I was well and truly stuck, and in no state to be breaking any doors down.

With a hiss of breath, I leant my forehead against the rough wooden wall, trying to figure out a way to escape. I wasn't afraid of small spaces, but I was rather worried about how I'd ended up like this. I'd been going to meet Fred in the orchard, yes, and the moment I saw him something had struck me in the back of the head. But what?

Instinctively, I lifted up a hand and gingerly touched the back of my tangled hair. There was something stuck in it, and there was what felt like a tender cut, and I whimpered in realisation. There was dried blood in my hair. At least it was dry - if it had been wet, I'd probably have passed out.

Just as I was planning to curl up on the floor and cry, I heard the handle being jiggled around, and jumped about a mile. The person on the other side evidently had as much luck as I did, and swore softly. I heard them mutter to themselves, "Bloody keys are in the kitchen", and then their footfalls retreating. A wave of relief crashed through me; whoever it was would be able to let me out, and I'd finally know what had happened to make me end up in here.

Patiently, I waited for whoever it was to return. In a minute or so I heard the jangling of keys, and the sound of a key being twisted in the look. I brushed down my clothes and tucked my messy hair behind my ears to try and make myself more presentable. I hoped it'd be Fred or George, who would be a little more understanding (if a little more amused) than anybody else.

The door swung open, and I immediately shielded my eyes. The sun was alarmingly bright after the darkness of the broom shed, and it took me a moment to blink my vision into focus. The face of George Weasley soon came into view, and I smiled in a weary kind of way - until the smile slipped off my face as I saw his expression.

He looked _livid._

"George!" I asked, startled. "What on earth is wrong?"

He glared at me fiercely for a full minute, before shaking his head in disgust and looking away. "Don't play stupid. I can't believe the cheek of you. What the hell are you doing in the broom shed? Realised you couldn't get home without our family's help?"

"I - what?" I asked, laughing slightly. Fred and George had played stupid pranks like this before; they'd pretended to have no idea who I was in second year, for example, which ended up with me pushing one of them out of the portrait hole and spraining their wrist. "Come on, I'm hardly in the state for a joke. What time is it? Did _you_ lock me in here? If you did, I'm going to -"

"A joke?" he asked, looking surprised, before he scowled again. "Oh, shut up. Just get out of here, would you?"

His tone was harsher than I have ever heard it, so I folded my arms and tapped my foot impatiently. "Alright, whatever. Very funny. Can you please just explain what's been going on?"

"I think you're the one with explaining to do," he replied, angrily. "Fred didn't tell me a lot, but what I heard made me feel sick. I even covered for you when you went missing and told Mum you'd had to Floo home urgently. I don't know why. You don't deserve it. I thought you'd got the hell out of here."

"Wait, what?" I asked, suddenly realising that George seemed to be being deadly serious. "What exactly did Fred tell you? That I didn't get to meet him?"

It was George's turn to look startled now. "No, of course he didn't! He told me what happened when you _did_ meet him."

"But -" I furrowed my brow, trying to think clearly with my aching head. "First thing first, I didn't meet him. I was on my way to - I was standing about here - when something whacked me in the back of the head. I just woke up in there."

George snorted, derisively. "You expect me to believe that, do you?"

"Of course I do!" I exclaimed, beyond frustrated. "How would I get locked in if I'd gone in there myself? I don't have my wand on me. And look, there's dried blood on the back of my hair."

I showed him, and when I turned back round he looked troubled. We stared into each other's eyes for a little while longer - him looking perplexed, me defiant - until he sighed, shaking his head again. "I dunno. Why would Fred tell me that you'd met him and said horrible stuff, if you hadn't?"

"I have no idea," I shrugged, relieved he was beginning to believe me. "But I can promise you that I didn't say anything horrible. What sort of stuff -"

"You need to talk to Fred," he said, suddenly.

"I do? Why?" I asked, unnerved by his sudden change of tone. "Look, can't you just tell me -"

"He knows more about it than me, and he's the one who needs an explanation," he explained, tugging me back towards the house. "He's in our room, doing some tidying because Bill and Charlie complained about the mess last night. Go tell him what you've just told me."

We entered the house and went to the bottom of the stairs together, until he came to a halt. "I'm not coming with you. Up you go."

"George!" I growled, impatiently. "Stop this a minute, you're making no sense. If Fred thinks I said loads of nasty stuff, he's hardly going to want to see me, is he? Why can't you come, too?"

"'Cause I don't understand it myself," he sighed, and then broke out in a smirk. "Plus I don't want to get blood on my clothes when he rips you to shreds."

"Don't say things like that!" I reprimanded, anxiously. "He won't be that mad, will he? I don't know what I'm supposed to have done wrong!"

"Just explain, and you'll be fine," he said, serious now. "I promise it'll be okay. I'll only be in the garden if you need me, okay?"

"Wait, what -" but before I could ask him what it was I was supposed to have said to Fred, George had gone back to the garden. I glowered at his retreating back, before giving myself a bracing shake and heading up the stairs. Whatever was going on, George had been reasonably easy to convince I was innocent. I was pretty sure Fred would be fine, and so I went confidently up to the second floor and opened the twins' bedroom door open, wanting nothing more than to get this mess cleared up and sleep.

Fred was rummaging through his wardrobe when I entered, plonking pairs of shoes into the bottom of it, and didn't look up. His back to me, he muttered, "You know George, I still can't believe it. I actually - God, who the hell would have thought she'd have said something like that? I thought - I thought -"

To my absolute horror, his voice was rather thick and stuffy, as though he'd been crying. Never, in all the time I'd known him, had I ever known of Fred Weasley crying. I took a tentative step forward and asked, in a small voice, "Fred? Are you alright?"

He spun sharply at my words, dropping the shoes he'd been holding. His eyes had lost their mischievous, bright sparkle, instead being replaced by a dull look. His hair was tousled and unbrushed, his expression sullen and miserable. At least, it _was_ sullen and miserable, until he realised just who he was gazing at.

Then he, just like his twin, looked absolutely bloody _livid_.

"Before you say anything, I'd just like you to know it wasn't me," I said, in a rush, because I'd learned not to let a twin get the first word in. I didn't want to hear anymore accusations, I just wanted to be cleared of blame. "Whatever happened, it wasn't my fault."

"Oh, someone had used an Unforgivable and forced you to be a bitch, had they?" he snarled, crossing his arms over his chest.

I gaped at the name he had called me, and then bristled angrily. "You know what? To the hell with you. If you're not going to hear me out, I'm not going to try and make you."

"How _dare_ you stand there and say crap like that?" he asked, laughing humourlessly. "How dare you even stand in my family's house, after what you said? You might as well just leave. I thought you had gone to that airhead Diggory or something."

"Evidently I haven't gone to Cedric, though I'm beginning to wish I had!" I hissed, trembling with fury at not being listened to. "I didn't want to come up here and explain myself all over again, but George told me to. If you're not even going to let me talk without shouting at me, I might as well -"

"Oh, don't tell me George has been taken in by some pathetic excuse?" Fred laughed, but his eyes were narrow. "What's the lie, then? You were drunk? You were hexed?

"I don't know what happened," I said, the words already familiar. "I didn't even meet you. I was knocked out."

"Oh, very good, very good," he said, applauding me. "So, who met me then? Was it your twin?"

"I don't know!" I insisted, actually stamping my foot in frustration. "I was on my way to meet you, I swear, but then I -"

"I'm not going to listen to you," he snapped, striding forward and holding the door open for me. "Just go, would you? Floo home, and just forget this whole thing. I don't even want to see you again."

Feeling sudden, stupid tears stinging my eyes, I shouted, "I didn't do anything, alright? I was on my way to meet you, something hit me in the back of my head and I just woke up locked in your bloody broom shed! If George hadn't have found me, I'd still be in there. I didn't even get to meet you. I don't know what the hell is going on, but whatever it is, it's not my fault."

Fred reached forward, and sharply grabbed my forearms, pulling me towards him. I tried to struggle but his grip was firm and painful. As I stared up into his glaring eyes I felt, for the first time in my life, intimidated by a Weasley twin. He shook me, none to gently, and snapped, "Don't lie, alright? I'm not thick. You met me, I know you did."

"I - I didn't!" I said, again, feeling desperate and a little scared now. "I didn't."

"Don't _lie_," he hissed, but I had thought I'd seen a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, and so took courage from that.

"I'm not lying," I pressed, trying to calm myself. "I swear, I didn't. Was is it I supposedly - supposedly said?"

He gazed down into my eyes for a moment, before looking away and muttering, in a heavy voice, "I don't see why you can't just cast your mind back and remember for yourself. You said that my family was the lowest of the low, and there was no way you'd ever consider a - a romance with anyone in it, because we had no money and shouldn't even be allowed to have so many children because - because we're all such scum."

I gaped up at him, stunned beyond words. Why the hell would I ever say that? The Weasleys were my favourite family in the world, let alone the fact that I'd been best friends with two of them for five years. Firmly, yet in a shocked, bland voice, I replied, "I didn't say that. I'd never say that. You lot are the best family in the fucking world."

There was a moment of tense, stormy air. Our eyes were locked and Fred was shaking slightly and my chest was heaving and neither of us seemed quite sure of what was going to happen. Then, without warning, he muttered, "Polyjuice Potion".

"Sorry?" I asked, at a loss as to what he meant.

"Somebody must have used Polyjuice Potion because someone who looked like you definitely met me, but - but you wouldn't have said those things."

He released me and I talk an automatic step backwards, rubbing the painful red marks on my forearms. "I'm glad you finally - finally see sense."

"Well," he murmured, looking thoroughly sheepish, and gazing anywhere but at me. "It was - well - in my defence, somebody who looked -"

"In your defence, my arse," I muttered, storming over to the corner of the room in which my trunk was stowed. I pulled it out and laid it on the nearest bed, proceeding to hunt for my belongings and throw them in. "I can't believe you didn't believe me the first time I said I didn't do it. Why the hell would I say something like that? You're supposed to be my best friend and _trust_ me."

"What are you doing?" he asked, sounding panicked. "Why are you packing? Things are alright now, aren't they?"

"I know when I'm not really trusted," I growled, slamming the lid of the trunk down and lifting it. I knew, even then, that I was acting irrationally, but I was so infuriated that I really didn't care. "I'm going home. Tell your dad thanks for the ticket to the World Cup, but someone else can have it."

"You can't leave!" he exclaimed, following me to the doorway and trying to reason with me. "Look, calm down. Let's talk. I'm sorry I thought it was you, okay?"

"I don't care," I replied, stubbornly, and marched across the hall, breathing heavily. At the top of the stairs, I couldn't help but look back. Fred stood in the doorway, looking miserable and defeated. I felt the familiar jolt in my stomach, but fought it defiantly. Our eyes locked. He blanched, muttered "Oh _God_", and stumbled forward towards me.

Then, passion inflicted in his every movement, he grabbed my arms again and pulled me towards him - and kissed me, hard, on the mouth.

Without a moment's hesitation, I dropped my trunk and entangled my fingers in his hair, kissing back. He let out a small groan and I moved the angle of my head slightly so the kiss was easier. His arms slipped around my waist, pulling me closer, and in our passion we staggered backwards together, too lost in the kiss to care about falling over.

However, gravity _did _care, and being at the top of the stairs had certain consequences.

Naturally, we fell.

The fall was hard and painful, and we crashed down right to the bottom. Once there, we both let out low groans of pain and shock, stirring from our tangle of limbs. Fred had landed on top of me, the git, and pulled himself off me, shaking slightly. He clambered to his feet and shook each of his limbs to ensure nothing had been broken.

Satisfied he was okay, he offered his hand to me, his cheeks crimson. Feeling my own cheeks glow warmly, my mind still screaming from the suddenness of it all, I took his hand. He attempted to pull me up but there was a sudden, sharp pain in my leg and I fell back down, letting out a pained cry.

"I think - I think -" I winced, and looked down at my leg. Sure enough, it looked as though the bone was sticking out at a terribly awkward angle. I closed my eyes against the tears that had risen because of the pain, and let out a hiss of breath. It really, really bloody hurt. "I think it's broken."

"Oh, shit," Fred said, simply. He gazed down at it a moment, seemingly not able to meet my eye. "Well. Uh. Does it hurt?"

"Just a bit," I muttered, through gritted teeth. If I hadn't been so preoccupied by the pain, I'd probably have rolled my eyes. "What - what do I do, then? My _leg_ happens to be bloody -"

"You'll have to go to St. Mungo's," Fred cut through me, beginning to smile. "There will probably be loads of _blood_ involved."

"Don't," I moaned, trying not to think about it. "That's not helping! You're such a git."

"I guess I am," he shrugged, unconcerned. "Thing is, I'm going to have to carry you, aren't I? I wouldn't call me a git, if I were you."

"You're going to have to carry me?" I asked, mouth suddenly going dry. "I guess - well, of course you do, but -"

"Up you go," he said, and lifted me up. One of his arms was holding my back, the other my thighs, and I felt rather like a bride being carried by a groom. I nearly slipped out of his arms, so quickly hooked an arm around his neck, wincing as I did so. I was trying my hardest _not_ to think of that damn kiss. It had to have been a spur of the moment thing.

Fred Weasley would never fancy _me_.

As he carried me over to the top of the stairs, our way was blocked by George. He had just come up from the kitchen, and looked rather hesitant. "Is everything okay? Mum heard bangs from the front room and asked me to - oh!" He suddenly realised that I was in Fred's arms and looked away, embarrassed. "Um. Sorry for interrupting something. I'll just - err -"

"Claudia's leg is broken," Fred explained, quickly. George's jaw dropped, and then snapped closed again. He folded his arms, scowling heavily at his twin, and going an angry red colour.

"What did you do to her?" he shouted, evidently furious. "Didn't she explain that it wasn't her who said that stuff? What the hell has happened? I can't believe that you'd ever -"

"I didn't do anything!" Fred burst out, though he looked rather sheepish. "It wasn't my fault."

I glared at him, trying to ignore how close our faces were, and murmured, "_Liar_."

"Oh, alright," he sighed, going a bright, boiling red. "I kissed her. We fell down the stairs. Her leg is broken. Is that a good enough explanation?"

George looked stunned for all but ten seconds, before letting out a delighted laugh. "You did? Well done! How was it?"

Our twin glowers made him fall silent, but he was still beaming to himself. Fred sighed again, _still_ not meeting my gaze, and took me down the stairs. "Let's get your leg fixed, then, before we hit anymore obstacles."

IIIIIII

Half an hour later, I strolled out of the hospital ward, whistling to myself. I had been whisked away by a harassed-looking Healer to have my bone fixed, leaving the twins and Mrs Weasley in the waiting room. Mrs Weasley had been mortified to see me injured (although we'd only told her I'd fallen down the stairs, alone), and had insisted she should come along as she was my acting guardian. Bill and Charlie had agreed to look after Ron and Ginny at home.

The procedure of fixing my bone had been painless and instant, and I felt as good as new as I went to find the waiting room. I wasn't even limping. I'd also trained myself, in the past half hour, not to think of what had caused my injury. The kiss, I'd come to think, had been a mistake of Fred's part and would not happen again, no matter how much my heart had felt like exploding when our lips had connected.

No matter how much I wanted to kiss him again, I had to accept I wouldn't.

I turned a corner, taking a deep breath to try and steady the battling emotions inside, when I heard a strangled cry. I looked up, but before I could see who it was, my vision was obscured by a tangle of mousey brown hair and I was slammed - hard - into the hospital wall.

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**A/N: **Don't hate me for another cliffhanger! I really hope you liked this chapter, please tell me if you did or not!, as things are beginning to tie together now.

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	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **And here I present to you - answers. Enjoy!

x

I was banged into the wall before I had time to react, knocking my already sore head against it. I cursed and tried to push my attacker off, but their grip was steady and painful upon my arms. Finally, I took a moment to register who it was, and instantly stopped struggling.

It was, bizarrely, my Muggle stepmother.

"Catherine?" I asked, blinking in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

My stepmother didn't answer, but instead shook me harder. She looked quite harassed and rather scary - her clothes were mismatched and badly ordered, her mousey hair was messily tied back, her face was frenzied. My stepmother had always been cheery and calm, and I had no idea what could have gotten her into such a state.

"What did you do to Polly?" she yelled, her fingers trembling as they held on to me. "What did you do to her?"

"P-Polly?" I asked, squirming. I was rather panicked now, and a little apprehensive - something serious had to have happened to my eldest stepsister, if Catherine was so het up. "What's happened? I haven't done anything. I haven't seen her since the last time I was home."

Before Catherine could scream in response, a larger pair of hands fell on her shoulders and guided her carefully away from me. I rubbed my arms bracingly once her grip had gone from them, as they were rather sore. Once I was sure the circulation to my hands hadn't been cut off (really, it was the second time that day I'd had my arms abused), I looked up to see what on earth was happening now.

My father, it turned out, was in the hospital as well, and was now talking to Catherine in low, comforting tones. Bewildered as to what my family was doing here, let alone a Muggle, I looked around to see if my stepsisters were anywhere near. I couldn't see Polly, but Diane was resting against the wall opposite me and staring at the floor, her eyes red and puffy.

"Diane?" I asked, moving forwards cautiously. She looked up at me, and bit her lip, as though struggling to keep some deep emotions hidden. "Diane, what's the matter? What's going on?"

"Polly's been poisoned," she whispered, her voice hoarse and feeble. "Your dad and the doctor people keep talking about some kind of - of potion. I don't know what it's called. I think it begins with a P."

She was talking quickly, nervously, so I hastily - despite the previous disagreements between us - pulled her into a comforting hug. She seemed grateful, and sagged against me, sniffling heavily. In a tiny voice, she whispered, "I'm scared. They say she's getting better but I'm scared."

"Where is she?" I asked, pulling back to look down into her dark eyes. "If the Healers say she'll be okay, she'll be okay. I promise. Is she in this ward? I want to see her."

"I was just about to go in and see her," came my father's weary voice from behind me. I turned, and he gave me a tired smile. "We've been in to see her many times. You can come along with me, if you want. Whenever she wakes up, she mentions you quite a lot."

My dad set off down the corridor, and I followed, but not before giving Diane's hand a comforting squeeze and throwing my stepmother a concerned smile. Once I'd caught up with my dad, he sighed heavily. "I told you we were staying with the Malfoys' house? Polly visited her boyfriend halfway through our stay there - he lives in the same village as the Weasleys, I believe - and it seems she sneaked some of the Malfoys' potions with her. What she was trying to achieve, I simply don't know."

"What potion was it?" I asked, though I was already beginning to guess.

"Polyjuice," my dad explained, leading me into a small room. "It works on Muggles, but the after effects are exceedingly dangerous. However, she seems in much better health now. I think she's sleeping, but she's been having conversations with us all morning."

"Polyjuice," I repeated, blankly, the pieces falling into place in my mind. There were three beds in the room, only one of which was occupied. Polly was fast asleep, her blonde hair spread across the pillow, her face pale but otherwise it's normal, pretty self. "It doesn't make sense. Why would she --?"

"Take Polyjuice Potion?" my Dad guessed. I nodded, even though I had intended to ask why she'd know how to get the timing exactly right to meet Fred, and to knock me out. Of course, my father had no idea about the way the Polyjuice had been used, and I knew I couldn't relieve his ignorance. There were parts of it even _I _didn't understand. "I don't know. I can't get a straight answer out of her."

We sat in silence by her bed, looking alternatively at her and at our surroundings. The silence stretched on for about five minutes, until my father asked, suddenly, "I can't believe I've forgotten to ask. Why are you in the hospital? Surely you didn't hear about Polly so soon."

"I didn't," I agreed, and then sheepishly motioned to the lower half of my body. "I broke my leg."

"You what?" my father yelped, evidently startled. "Is it okay now? Have you been seen to? How on earth did _that_ happen?"

"I was being clumsy and I fell down the stairs," I confessed, which was only half a lie. "Mrs Weasley and the twins are in the waiting room. It's fine now, it got fixed in about a second."

My dad rested back in his chair, shaking his head in disbelief. "The daughters I've raised. All we need is Diane to start acting crazy as well."

I kept silent, perhaps wisely. My father might be a lot more shocked about his daughters (I was a little miffed he was calling Polly and Diane his daughters, admittedly), if he knew the real reason two of us had ended up in hospital. After all, Polly seemed to have taken Polyjuice Potion to convince Fred I hated him, and I'd fallen down the stairs snogging a boy.

Before he could reprimand me further, the figure in the bed began to stir. We both leant forward, anxiously, to see Polly open her eyes and try to focus on the room. After a minute or so of struggling, she managed to sit up, and swept her blonde curtain of hair from her face with a trembling hand.

"Hello, Harrison," she greeted my father, in a much meeker voice than I was used to hearing from her. Then, her gaze moved to me, and her eyes went wide. She looked, quite simply, terrified, and I couldn't blame her. If she weren't in such a pitiful state, I would probably have punched her there and then. "He-hello, Claudia."

"Hey, Polly," I replied, gently. The violence could come once she was back to her nasty self. Oh, how I was looking forward to it. Of course, I had to establish what exactly had happened, and why, before I took any drastic action. "Dad, d'you think you could give Polly and me a little while alone? We haven't spoken in ages."

"Alright," my dad agreed, looking pleased that I was trying to make an effort with Polly for once. "I'll be back in a minute. I shall tell Catherine and Diane you're up, Polly."

My dad gave us both a last smile, and left, leaving an extremely awkward silence in his wake. Polly stared into her clean white sheets, her cheeks growing steadily more red, whilst I tried to find soft enough words to ask her what had happened. My list of swearwords and threats perhaps wouldn't be too appropriate, given the situation.

Finally, a slight plea to my voice, I asked, "Why, Polly?"

"Why what?" she asked, her voice small and her eyes still on the sheets.

"Why did you do that? Why d'you tell Fred all that stuff and pretend to be me?"

"It was just - just a joke," she explained, sinking lower under her duvet. "I didn't - I didn't mean anything by it. It was just a laugh."

"Just a laugh," I replied, struggling to keep my temper. "You almost cost me my two best friends. I don't see what's so funny about that. Why go to all that trouble, anyway, if it was just some joke?"

"I didn't go to much trouble," she tried to reason, but her voice was even smaller. "It was - look, it's a long story."

"Tell me it, then," I said, simply, and sat back. She looked up, at last, and bit her lip. Our eyes met and we stared at one another for a full minute, before she let out a shaky breath and looked away. With a small nod of her head in defeat, she began to explain in more detail.

"Do you have any idea how pissed off I was when you and those twins left? You'd all made a fool of me, and I _told _you I'd get you back. I completely forgot about it, though, because you weren't there and everything. We went to stay with the Malfoys, and I was assigned the task of having to be friends with their son, Draco. We got on surprisingly well, actually, even though he kept letting out stupid comments about me not being a witch. I just told him he was a freak and that was that.

"Anyway, around that time, the letter arrived from Fred. I remembered how you'd all --"

"Hang on," I said, cutting across her and furrowing my brow. "What letter from Fred?"

She blinked in surprise, as though I was being purposefully ignorant. "Well, the letter asking your dad for permission, of course."

"Permission for _what_?" I asked, now muddled beyond confusion. What could Fred need my dad's permission for? It just didn't make sense. "Polly, come on, what did he ask permission for?"

"He asked him if he could ask you to be his girlfriend, of course," Polly sighed, as though I were some kind of fool. "To be honest, I think it was him just showing off and trying to be a gentleman, but your dad was really impressed and said yes."

I stared at her, completely and utterly stunned.

She couldn't be serious.

She really, really couldn't.

Fred Weasley - the prankster, the best friend, the crush - had wanted to go out with me? He had gone to all the trouble of asking my father? He had actually _fancied_ me, all that time? My breath catching in my throat, I began to beam, and then laugh. Fred Weasley asked to go out with _me_! The kiss - that kiss, that almost _fatal_ kiss, damn it - had been completely genuine.

Fred Weasley wanted to go out with me.

I nearly did a dance.

Polly, who had folded her arms impatiently, some of the life seeming to come back into her, rolled her eyes. "Can I carry on, please?"

For someone so reluctant to speak in the first place, she sure seemed to have a sudden like for telling her story. Still, I was in such a place of inner excitement that I didn't care. I waved my hand to signal she could continue, practically bouncing in my seat. Fred Weasley fancied _me_!

"Well, I read the letter that he'd sent, and realised that he'd been stupid enough to tell your dad the day he was going to tell you. My boyfriend, Tommy - we used to be penpals, and it developed - lives near the Weasleys' place, so I phoned him up. He said he'd seen you and the twins around, and that you'd actually slapped him -"

"By any chance, does he work in a newsagents?" I asked, suddenly remembering the beautiful boy I'd hit across the face when he'd called me fat. Polly nodded, and I resisted groaning at the coincidence. What a perfect person to make an enemy of! "Sorry, carry on. I just remembered who he was."

"Yes, well. We decided to get revenge on you. He came and picked me up - he can drive, you know - but not before I'd talked to that Draco boy about plans. He came up with the idea of making me look like you, with this horrible tasting potion. I had to get some of the hairs - but luckily I'd accidentally packed your cardigan in my bag when we went to the Malfoys, and there were a couple on that.

"Of course, I didn't tell Tommy about you being a witch, or what the plan was. I didn't want him to think that I'm related to - well, someone like _you_. Anyway, he dropped me off at the Weasleys' house the day Fred was supposed to admit he liked you. Luckily, the two of you were in the garden and so I hid in the trees near that orchard thing.

"You fell from that broom thing - which was hilarious, I must say - and so I quickly went to the back of that shed. He told you to meet him in an hour, so I took the potion Draco had helped me prepare - his parents had a barrel of it, anyway - and waited. It was really painful, but it worked. I didn't think he'd notice the change of clothes too much, I could explain it away if need be. When you came out I hit -"

She fell silent, suddenly looking down, her cheeks beginning to redden again. I was now feeling a violent mix of emotions - relief at getting answers, shock and excitement at hearing Fred liked me, pity that Polly was so twisted and now poisoned, and anger at what she'd done. With a sigh, I helped her along, "You hit me on the back of the head with a rock, I assume?"

"Well, yeah," she shrugged, uncomfortably. "You know the rest. He said that he'd fallen in love with you, and I told him loads of stuff about you hating his family. Anyway, I was just going to the road that Tommy said he'd pick me up at, when I suddenly started going dizzy. It felt like I was being choked or something. Then, I woke up here. According to your dad, Tommy rushed me to his house, rang our family and your dad 'Apparated' or something. He had to wipe Tommy's memory, I think he said. So yeah, I was taken here, and given some kind of antidote thing."

"You -" I let out a long, weary breath, and fell back in my chair. He'd said he'd fallen in _love_ with me? Jesus Christ. "God, Polly, that's revenge, isn't it? Why on earth did you go through all the trouble of doing all of that? I mean - you could of lost me everything. I've never been that bad to you, have I?"

"You and your dad stole my mother," she said, suddenly, in a rather loud voice. I blinked, startled at this sudden outburst. "Diane, Mum and I were doing fine when our dad left us. Then _you_ _two_ came along, and ruined it all. I'm pretty sure she likes you more than me. I think she always wanted Diane and me to be magic."

"You should see her now," I commented, feeling a little ashamed, despite not having done anything wrong. I could understand where she was coming from - I often felt like she and her sister had stolen my dad, though not quite so passionately. Work seemed to steal him more. "I've never seen her so upset. She really hurt me, too, thinking I'd poisoned you. I thought she was going to slap me or something."

"She really did that?" Polly asked, perking up slightly. Rolling my eyes at her enthusiasm over my pain, I made to reply when a Healer bustled into the room. She took one glance at Polly - who was sitting up, even though she looked exhausted, and turned to me.

"I'm afraid you need to leave Miss Paisley alone to get some rest now, dear," she said to me, a kind expression on her face. I didn't make to move, until I realised that Polly was also called Miss Paisley - her surname before her mother's marriage to my dad had been a plain and simple Smith - and stood up.

I glanced down at my stepsister, wondering what on earth to say. Goodbye seemed to friendly, and that was one thing I wasn't feeling - she'd nearly cost me my two best friends, all because my dad and her mum had fallen in love. "Well. I guess I'll see you soon, then."

"Yeah," she agreed, not looking at me as she laid back down. I headed for the door to the sounds of the Healer rearranging a bunch of flowers on the windowsill. At the doorway, I looked back, to find Polly gazing at me, a strange expression on her face. As though it was causing her great pain to say it, she slowly asked, "Is Fred okay? Are you still friends?"

I couldn't help but smile at her concern. "Yeah, it's all okay now. All it cost me was a broken leg and a bit of blood from the back of my head."

She laughed then, despite herself. With one last smile, I turned away, and left, into the corridor. I made my way back to my father, Catherine and Diane, and they all looked up questioningly as they heard my approach. I shrugged in response to their looks. "She's alright. We've just had a bit of a talk, and the Healer wants her to rest a bit."

"Good," Catherine said, nodding. "Very good. I'm - I'm very sorry, Claudia, for -"

"It's alright," I said, firmly. I could excuse her irrationality easily; it must have been horrific for her, knowing her daughter had been poisoned and not knowing how or why. "I understand. I'm just glad she's okay."

"I think we all are," my dad noted, whilst Diane nodded emphatically.

"Well, I think I should go back to the Weasleys," I said, suddenly remembering them. "They're waiting in the waiting room and probably wondering what's happened to me. I'll see you all soon, alright?"

They all bid me goodbye, and I quickly went off in search of the waiting room. I felt a bit bad for making them all stay there so long, but there were several emotions overriding the guilt. After all, I remembered suddenly, Fred liked me. He'd actually been surprisingly romantic and had written to my father to ask permission. He actually had a _crush _on me. I had no idea what I was going to say to him when I next had to, but I was terrified, whatever it was going to be.

Finally, I emerged in the waiting room, and cast a glance around all the witches and wizards for some ginger hair. To my surprise, Fred was sat alone, his twin and his mother nowhere in sight. I didn't go towards him immediately, instead lingering in the doorway, far too nervous to walk forward. What could I say to him? Would I tell him I knew he liked me, or wait to see if he admitted it?

He looked rather bored, slumped in his seat, and so was gazing around the room. His eyes glanced at me, then away, and then he did a double take. Grinning widely, he stood up, and I had no choice. I made my way over to him.

I stopped before him, and our eyes met. The smile faded from his lips, and he looked away, breath suddenly hitching. My knees felt girlishly weak, and I hated myself for being so silly. This was Fred Weasley. I knew him, I'd known him for years. There was no reason to feel awkward around him.

"It's all fixed," I explained, though that was obvious from the fact I was standing up. "It only took a second."

"Why were you so long?" he asked, seizing the conversation gratefully. "Mum had to go to start dinner, George persuaded her I could wait alone. She didn't want to - she thinks you're her responsibility - but she went eventually."

"I bumped into Polly," I explained, decided I owed him some of the explanation. After all, it had effected him as much as it had me. "She's been poisoned."

"She has?" he asked, aghast. "How? Who did it?"

"Her, in a sense," I shrugged, and then fixed him with a meaningful look. "It was Polyjuice Potion."

"Ah," he said, softly, nodding slowly. "What exactly happened?"

I launched into the explanation, leaving out the part about the letter, and his face paled more and more, with each word I spoke. When I was finished, I smiled sheepishly, wondering what would happen now. Would we forget the kiss, and just move on? I didn't want to - but I was hardly going to bring the awkward subject up. He'd probably been put off kissing me for life, after all the trouble liking me had caused.

"I don't understand," he said, after mulling the story over for a minute or so. "I mean - how did she know when I was going to be on my own?" Then, he flushed red, looking mortified. "Did she - err - did she happen to tell you what I said to her, when she thought I was you?"

"Well." I took a deep breath, turning crimson and biting my lip extremely hard. "She said that you'd written to my father saying you'd - you'd admit something on a certain day, and that's how she knew. And, um, she said - well - yeah, she told me what you said."

"Ah," he said, again, and scratched the back of his neck. "Um. Well."

"Yeah," I nodded, my mouth having gone dry. "Err. Well, I. Um."

"What did you think to - err - what I said, then?" he asked, wincing.

"Oh, well -" I stopped, hating every second of the prickly conversation. "Well, I thought it was quite - quite sweet. And, um, if you'd have told me - instead of, you know, Polly - that you - err - had fallen in love with me, um -"

"Yes?" he prompted, as I fell silent.

"I think I would have kissed you," I said, in a rush of nerves, and then turned away. I didn't think I'd ever been so embarrassed in my entire lives. Fred let out a small, choked sound at my confession and asked, in a terribly squeaky voice, "You would have kissed me?"

"Um. Well. Yeah."

"I see," he said, voice now faint. I turned back to him, taking deep steadying breaths. He looked at me, an odd expression on his face. "Well then, it's - it's a pity I didn't get to tell you, isn't it?"

"Yeah." I gave a shaky little laugh and then, shocked at my own bravery, added, "I'd probably still kiss me if you admitted it again, to me."

"Ah," he said, for the third time, and shuffled his feet against the ground. "Um. That would be the sensible thing to do then, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah," I agreed, and suddenly realised that we'd moved a little closer to each other. The heat on my face was scolding, now, and it looked like he was going through the same, unpleasant sensation. "Thing - thing is, you've never been very sensible, have you?"

"Not before now, no," he smiled, though the smile quickly disappeared, replaced by a look of fear. "Erm. So. Admitting time it is."

"Indeed," I said, and then grimaced. "This is - well. Just. Okay."

"So, Claudia," he said, in a falsely cheery voice, "I've - um - well, this summer I've realised something - err - important. And that important thing is, well, that - err - I guess that I've -"

"Yes?" I asked, in a whisper.

"I guess that I've fallen in love with you," he said, voice hollow and expressionless. "Yeah, that's - that's - um. That's the jist of it, anyway. Now - now for your part of the deal."

My heartbeat was deafening. At his words, I'd felt a jolt in my stomach, and I just couldn't help it. I leant forward, on the tips of my toes, and pressed my lips against his. He let out a strange noise, and awkwardly placed his arms around my waist, pulling me closer. I smiled into the kiss, almost crying with relief. It was actually happening, and nothing - _nothing _- could stop it.

Pulling away, I didn't lose my smile. Instead I said, in a shaky voice, "Try to tell the right girl next time, won't you?"

x

**A/N: **Awkward, eh? Please review! I appreciate every comment I get.

x


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **One chapter left, guys! Thanks so much to all who have read and reviewed so far!

xxx

The breakfast was lovely, as usual - boiled eggs, the yolk runny, with toast to dip in. It was my favourite meal to start the day with, and if it were any other day I would have eaten it as quickly as possible, trying to finish it before it got cold. But today, I couldn't. I couldn't savour it - I could barely concentrate on ensuring the food went in my mouth, and not on my cheek. You see, I was rather distracted.

The distraction was provided in the jovial form of Fred Weasley.

He was sat opposite me at the breakfast table, laughing with George, and seemed perfectly content. I scowled, rather jealous at how able to _live_ he was. Since the kiss the day before, and the fact that he confessed he _loved me_, of all things, I couldn't focus upon anything. But there he was, the arse, laughing and joking and acting as though nothing had happened between us.

After we had Flooed home from St Mungo's the previous evening, we hadn't spoken anymore about what had happened. All evening we had avoided each other, but often found our eyes meeting, whereupon we'd both smile and look away. I never thought I'd see Fred acting coy, but it seemed that he indeed had it in him.

When I'd woken in the morning, I'd found Fred sitting on the end of my bed, George having already gone down. Before I could say a word - probably an angry word too, about him scaring me the moment I'd woken up - he'd leant forward and pressed his lips against mine for the merest moment, before fleeing downstairs. I'd been tempted to shout after him, calling him a coward, but the kiss - however small - had left me rather breathless.

Here I was now, however, longing for some kind of certainty. I wanted to know for definite whether or not we were - the phrase alone made me feel all silly and girlish - boyfriend and girlfriend, or if we were just very, very close friends, who kissed every now and then. I know I'd prefer the former, however much it made me panic to realise I was turning into some kind of - of _girl_.

We hadn't told anybody about the kisses. George, however, seemed to sense something had happened - he kept shooting me suspicious looks, and then glanced at Fred in the same manner. Of course, he knew about the first one, when I broke my leg, but he had no idea it had developed even further. Nobody else seemed to realise something was different, which I could only be relieved about - the Weasleys were lovely, but I was sure they'd go on and on about the relationship, probably even coming up with wedding plans.

Hang on, _wedding plans_? Shut up, brain.

Just as I was stabbing out the mental images of me in a frilly white dress with a mental knife, Fred stood up abruptly. The table fell silent, questioning looks being shot at him. He cleared his throat, beamed around at everybody, and raised his glass of pumpkin juice. Then, he looked directly at me.

"I have an announcement to make."

I blanched. I should have expected some eccentric and outlandish, but I'd evidently forgotten in all the excitement that Fred Weasley was the world's biggest prat. As I cast around for something to throw at him, he went on. "Yesterday, as you all know, Claudia broke her leg. We led you to believe that she fell down the stairs - which she did - but that's not the full story.

"Claudia, will you stand up and help me tell the family what really happened?"

"No, I won't!" I spluttered, cheeks turning red. I looked around at everyone's confused faces, wishing they'd look away. "Sorry about this," I said, apologetically. "It's nothing, you can all carry on eating."

Fred leant forward, looking annoyed, and hissed through his teeth, "Claudia, you're kind of ruining the moment here."

"We don't need a moment! There is no moment!" I hissed back. Looking around once more, I laughed nervously. "No moment at all."

"I - what?" Percy asked, raising his eyebrows. "I don't have a clue what the two of you are on about."

"No, me neither," Mrs Weasley said, studying the two of us suspiciously. "Either say what you have to say, Fred, or sit down."

"Well," Fred blinked, evidently rather let down that I wouldn't be assisting his little 'announcement'. "Well, err, the thing is. Claudia didn't just trip down the stairs by accident. Someone else was involved, so to speak."

"You _pushed_ her?" Ron gaped.

"No, no," Fred said, hastily. "Well, not really. What I mean to say is -"

"You pushed her, didn't you?" Ginny pressed, looking shocked.

"No!" Fred insisted, ears growing red.

"No, it was slightly more dramatic than that," George helped, now grinning.

"Don't encourage him," I groaned, bright red. "This is - this is stupid, Fred. Can't you just sit down and -"

"The reason Claudia fell down the stairs and broke her leg," Fred went on, raising his voice over my protests. I buried my face in my hands as he finished, "is that I - um - I kissed her."

A shocked silence met his confession. I groaned again and didn't look up from my hands, instead cherishing the darkness. I'd never be able to look Mr and Mrs Weasley in the eye again, now they knew I'd been snogging their son. In the prickly silence, Fred cleared his throat again, this time a little more half-heartedly. "Um. Somebody say something?"

"I knew all along," George sniggered, and I couldn't help but glare at him for his childishness. He merely winked at me. Now I was looking somewhere else than the palms of my hands, I decided to risk a glance around the table. Ginny looked amused, and pleased. Ron was still gaping. Percy was blinking rapidly behind his glasses, glancing between Fred and me. Mr and Mrs Weasley were, to my utter amazement, _smiling_.

"Well, it is about time," Mrs Weasley commented, sharing a look with her husband. "We've been expecting this, you know."

"You have?" I asked, too surprised to keep silent. "What - why?"

"Well, the two of you have hardly been subtle," she chuckled, standing up to clear the table of the dirty plates. "Sometimes when one of you speak, the other will go red or leave the room. Whenever the subject of certain other people is brought up, the two of you get jealous. It's all been very obvious."

"It has?" I asked, laughing slightly. "I didn't realise."

"It wasn't obvious to me," Ron remarked, having finally assumed an expression that didn't remind me of fish. "So it can't have been _that_ obvious."

"Ron, Ron, Ron," George sighed, shaking his head sadly. "You probably wouldn't have found it obvious if they confessed their undying love for one another right in front of you."

Whilst Ron spluttered, and everybody else laughed at him, I found myself looking at Fred. Though it had been embarrassing, his lavish announcement had been somewhat romantic. It seemed, I realised as I gazed at the chortling boy, that there were sides to him even _I_ hadn't known about. It was confusing, but oddly exciting.

He looked away from his indignant little brother, and our eyes met. Immediately, his expression softened, and his ears went red again. My own cheeks began to go pink once more, but I couldn't help but smile. He looked around, saw that all his family were still talking, and leant forward slightly.

"Want to go for a walk?" he asked, nodding to the open door.

"Alright, then," I grinned, somewhat nervously.

We stood up at the same time, and headed for the door, hoping to slink away inconspicuously. Our plan was somewhat foiled, however, as George called after us. "Where are you two going? Wait a sec, I'll come too."

"Err -" Fred and I looked at each other awkwardly, as George stood up. Fred, looking immensely guilty, turned to his twin. "Err, George, Claudia and I were kind of planning to go for a walk. Alone."

"Oh!" Comprehension dawned on George's face, and he smiled faintly, sitting back down. "Oh, of course. Have fun."

"I - George, you can come if you want," I said, a little guiltily. "We don't mean to leave you out. It's just -"

"No, seriously, I'm fine," George replied, grinning a little more confidently. "You two go and have a walk. I think there are more than enough people here to keep me preoccupied."

We both smiled at him and left, walking into the bright outdoors. It was strange how the overgrown weeds and the mismatched boots on the lawn suddenly seemed picturesque. We strode out into the garden, avoiding touching and looking at each other. Suddenly things felt awkward, and I had no idea what to say.

"Err," Fred said, coming to a halt, his arms swinging uselessly by his sides. "Do you want to go flying?"

"Not particularly," I admitted, twisting a lock of hair around a finger.

Fred laughed, a short and nervous laugh. "You know, I never thought I'd date a girl who hates flying so much."

"I could pretend to like it," I offered, hoping he didn't see me grinning like an idiot at his words, "but wait, we're - um - we are a couple, then?"

"Oh, only if - well, I thought so, but I mean, if you don't want -"

"No, I want," I said, quickly, nervously licking my lips. "I just didn't know if you wanted."

"Well, I kind of did admit yesterday that I've pretty much fallen for you, didn't I?" he smirked, a glint of his old humour shining in his brown eyes. "It hardly takes a lot of brains to work out that I wanted to go out with you."

"I never claimed to have a large amount of brains," I grinned, happy the ice was breaking, bit by bit. "If we are going out, then, you do realise that Lee is going to have to give you some kind of 'protective older brother' talk? He's practically my brother, after all. It'll be the typical, 'I'll kill you if you hurt her' stuff."

"I can deal with Lee," Fred scoffed, settling himself against a tree at the edge of the orchard. I sat down opposite him, crossed legged, and picking daisies from the lawn. "He's scrawny."

"Scrawny?" I snorted, picking the petals off of the white daisy. "He'd beat you in a fight any day. He's got surprising strength, believe me."

"Am I supposed to be jealous?" he teased, and in a moment he had moved rather closer. Not a trace of fear to be found on his face any longer, he leant forward and kissed me, hard, upon the lips. I let out a strangled noise, rather taken by surprise, but after a moment or two of motionlessness, I kissed back.

It was an odd, slightly uncomfortable kiss, that nonetheless made me want to burst into song or something equally embarrassing. He leaned closer into me, running a hand through my hair, the other settling on one of my hips. I had no idea what to do with mine, so I simply strung my arms around his neck, and hoped it would do.

The hand on my hip slipped upwards slightly, to my stomach, and then just a little higher, to the curve of my breasts. I took in a sharp breath, and tensed. He pulled back a little, resting on his knees, and looked at me, concerned. "Um. Are you okay?"

"I - yeah," I muttered, fiddling with the hem of my skirt uncomfortably. "It's just, well. This is a little weird, isn't it? We've been friends for God knows how long, and now we're - well. You know."

Fred look troubled, and he didn't meet my eye. "If you don't want this, then -"

"Oh, God, no, I do," I said, hastily. I didn't want him to think I didn't have feelings for him or anything, because even now the butterflies in my stomach were dancing. I was acting stupid, unwillingly throwing something amazing away. Smiling slightly, I got to my knees so I was nearly at his height, slipped my arms around his neck and kissed him. It felt rather better this time. Pulling back slightly, I smiled. "I'm sorry. Just ignore me. Of _course_ I want this."

Fred grinned. "You are _such_ a girl."

Before I could reply indignantly, however, he was kissing me again. It was gentler this time, more tentative, and I smiled against his lips.

This was, I thought, idly curling a finger in his red hair, worth every broken leg and stuffy stepsister in the world.

xxx

"Right then," Mr Weasley said, brightly. "The connection to the fireplaces is sorted out, so we can get on and pick the two of them up. We'll get Hermione first. Who's coming?"

"I'll come," Ron said, immediately, followed by the twins and Ginny. Mr Weasley smiled at everyone, and stood up from where he was sat at the table. As everybody else who'd agreed to go stood up, as well, Bill and Charlie smiled at me.

"Want a game of Exploding Snap whilst they go pick Ron's friends up?" Charlie asked, withdrawing a pack from his pocket.

"Alright, then," I grinned, tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear. I didn't know the elder Weasley brothers that well, and it would be nice to spend some time getting to know them. I glanced at Fred, who was getting out of his chair and stretching, and at George, who was talking to Ginny. "I hope you're better than the twins. They've never beaten me, and we've played hundreds of times."

George snorted, looking up from his conversation. "It's pure luck. I'll beat you one day."

I smirked, sceptically. "The man who can beat me at Exploding Snap will probably get my hand in marriage."

The moment the words were out in the open, I winced. I often made stupid jokes about boys and marriage, knowing full well it was rubbish, but now I had to be a little more careful. I was, after all, in a relationship. And anyway, why did I keep mentioning marriage? We'd not even been going out for a _day_.

To my relief, however, Fred just grinned. He planted a kiss on my lips (oh _god_, that felt lovely), and then mockingly shook his fist at Charlie. "If you beat her, I might have to hurt you. No hard feelings, yeah?"

"None at all," Charlie replied, looking somewhat bemused, and shared a look with Bill.

"Well then, let's be off," Mr Weasley said, smiling slightly at the talk, and made his way over to the fireplace. As everybody left - Fred winking at me as he did so - I turned to the now set-up card game and pushed my sleeves up.

"Right then," I said, brightly. "Who's ready to lose?"

xxx

As we sat around the table underneath the darkening sky, I was still cheery at having thrashed everybody, once more, at Exploding Snap. Despite the fact the twins had argued with their mother over a prank they'd played on Dudley Dursley (Harry Potter's Muggle cousin), I was in a fairly good mood. Everyone was generally in high spirits because of the World Cup the next day, and Fred couldn't seem too look away from me.

Every time our eyes met, I was reminded why I'd started to fancy him in the first place.

To distract myself, I looked down the table, examining the newcomers. I didn't know either of them that well, but I liked them well enough. Hermione Granger had a head of brown curls, and rather large front teeth, and was the sort of girl I'd usually despise. For some reason, though, I didn't mind her. Despite her love for rules, she was polite and evidently a good person.

I'd only spoken to Harry Potter a handful of times at most, but he was always pleasant. It was nice to see he didn't have a stupidly sized ego, plus he was up for breaking the rules every now and again. I'd raised hell when Fred and George had given the Marauder's Map to Harry the year before - I missed that old parchment rather a lot - but bore him no ill will. I suppose his needs were rather great, even if I'd get caught a lot more by Filch because of it.

I found myself thinking about the last time I'd been caught by the dear old caretaker. I'd been starving at about eleven at night, and had snuck down to the kitchens, but had accidentally tripped into a suit of armour. As Filch came thundering down the corridor, shouting about how many detentions I was bound to get, Cedric Diggory had come up the other side.

Being a Prefect, he'd managed to talk Filch out of punishing me, and then had walked me to the kitchens. We'd had a hot chocolate each, had talked for a couple of hours, and then he'd walked me back to Gryffindor Tower. At one point he'd taken my hand, which had just about made my heart burst, but nothing else had happened. Then, my mind rushed to the memory of him kissing me on his sofa, and how wonderful it had felt.

"Claudia?"

I looked up, cheeks burning, to meet Fred's eyes. He was looking curious, but once I'd given him my attention, he merely smiled. "Sorry, you were miles away. You looked like a right idiot."

I sniffed, pretending to be hurt. "Well. If that's how you feel about me -"

"Yeah, course it is," he commented, rolling his eyes. "You're just an idiot."

"Well, then, this idiot is withholding kisses," I smirked, triumphantly.

"You can't do that!" Fred gasped, clutching his chest.

"Oh, would you two please get a room?" George groaned. "I'm happy you're together and everything, but if you're going to get sickening…"

"A room? What, you mean the one we share with you?" Fred asked, innocently. George scowled, though I could tell he wasn't really mad. I suppose he was just happy the two of us had gotten our acts together and had finally admitted our feelings to one another.

Before long, however, it was Mrs Weasley banishing us to our rooms. We had to get up early, for that damn World Cup, and I suppose we needed all the sleep we could get. I felt full and content, thanks to the lovely dinner and a good few games of exploding cards, and stumbled up to the twins' bedroom happily.

Just before crawling into bed to sleep, Fred pulled me close to him and kissed me, long and hard, upon the lips. I pulled back, smiling a little dazedly, and laughed. "Well. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"That you will," he grinned, and quickly kissed me once more. "Night."

"Night," I sighed, lightly, and clambered into my bed. As the lights switched out and the darkness swirled around us, I grinned happily. Things were getting rather good in the life of Claudia Paisley, for once, and it was quite enjoyable.

Suddenly, I remembered that I'd most likely be seeing Cedric the next day, and mentally swore.

All I knew was I'd have to keep those damn butterflies under wraps, and not let one escape.

Fred Weasley, for all his laughter and jokes, was one jealous bugger when it came to it.

xxx


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **This is it! The last chapter. I won't say much just yet, so I shall just lay this chapter in front of you and hope you enjoy it.

x

I lay on my back, completely unable to sleep. The day had been a bizarre, and rather exhausting. We'd woken up at the crack of dawn and had crawled up a loathsomely steep hill, to arrive at the World Cup by Portkey. I'd seen - much to my irritation and embarrassment - a rather handsome Cedric and his father, but I'd not got to say a word to him as Fred had whisked me away whenever we got too close to one another. Cedric had been confused, but gracious, and hadn't questioned it.

Then the Quidditch match itself had been annoying. The height we were sat at was incredibly terrifying and I'd hidden my face for the majority of it - only looking down when all the men's interests were peaked by the Veelas, which led me to ignore Fred for the rest of the day. I was pleased the Irish had won, but the sounds of celebration outside were rather over the top, I mused, as I lay in the tent and stared at the ceiling.

Ginny and Hermione were fast asleep across the room, and I envied their slumber. My mind was alive with thoughts of Fred and Cedric and those damn Veelas, and then Fred again. Alarmingly, though, I found myself feeling quite content with the world. After all, after so long of pining, I was actually going out with Fred Weasley. I still couldn't quite believe it.

Rolling on to my stomach, I sighed heavily and buried my face into my pillow. I felt restless, but the position was comfortable, and the bed was quite warm. With thoughts of Fred and I in my mind, I closed my eyes, and felt the comfort of sleep begin to wash over me. I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids were really heavy … then I was suspended in the air, looking down upon an arguing Polly and Cedric … then masses of broomsticks flew past, with giggling Veela riding them … and then …

"Claudia? _Claudia_? Hello? Wake up, you idiot!"

"Mmm. What?" I mumbled, not opening my eyes. Just my bloody luck; I'd finally dropped off, and now somebody was trying to wake me up. "Go away. Too sleepy."

"There's no time for sleep!" a voice protested, and I felt my covers being yanked off me. "Get up. Now. This is serious, okay?"

Finally, I opened my eyes as the cool of the night washed over me, and sat up, blinking groggily. I realised, much to my surprise, that Fred was stood next to my bed, looking much paler than usual. Across the tent, George was shaking his sister and Hermione awake. Seeing the unusual worry in Fred's expression, I pulled myself out of the bed and pulled my dressing gown around me.

"What's going on?" I asked, but before anybody could reply, there were a number of screams outside somewhere, and then cackles of laughter. Fred's eyes widened, and he shook his head.

"Get your shoes on, quick. We need to get out of here."

I quickly slipped my boots on - the feeling quite horrible as I wasn't wearing any socks - beginning to get a little unnerved. What on earth could be happening out there? Once I was done, I straightened up and meant to question Fred again, but he grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the tent without an explanation. George and a startled looking Ginny and Hermione followed, the lot of us shivering as we came out into the night.

Harry and Ron were waiting outside the tent for us, and we hurried across the campsite, amidst screams and flashes of light and pushing bodies. I glimpsed backwards as we did so and saw, to my horror, a number of masked wizards marching towards us, setting tents on fire and levitating what seemed to be Muggles above them.

As I watched one of the small, pale figures spin upside down, I wanted to throw up.

Whoever those masked, frightening figures were, they were _sick_.

As I came to a halt, staring, almost mesmerised by what was going on, somebody forcefully banged into me and I staggered over on to the floor. People were, understandably, running at full pelt to avoid the wrath of those strange beings, and so I quickly got to my feet for fear of being trampled.

However, as I did so, I suddenly realised that I couldn't see Fred, or any of my friends, anywhere.

"Oh," I remarked, to nobody in particular, panic begging to swell inside of me for their safety. "Shit."

I bit my lip, shivering and wondering what the hell to do. If I went looking for them, I met just get lost, and anyway, they could have gone off to any direction. If I went back to the tent there was a chance I'd be set on fire. I considered lingering where I was, but a fresh explosion of screams from mere metres away, and the sight of the advancing witches and wizards, made me think again.

As a tent five metres away from me burst into flames, I did what any sane person would do.

I ran.

As I managed to dodge clashing with anybody again, I noticed that up ahead was a large forest, and made a beeline straight for it. There would be many more places to hide there, I was sure. I jumped over an abandoned cauldron (evidently, some people had been in such a hurry to leave that they'd scattered there belongings everywhere), and ducked into to the cover of the trees a stitch forming in my side.

I slowed as I made my way across the dirt path, my breathing heavy and deep, and kept my eyes roving around in search of a Weasley. I couldn't see them, although there were gaggles of other witches and wizards, anxiously talking. There wasn't a familiar face among them. Once again, panic began to spread through me, as I wondered where on earth they'd gotten to. One moment I'd been with them, the next moment they'd disappeared. What if they were looking for me, and strayed into the path of those horrible, masked people?

Just as I was imagining all the awful things that could happen, all of them being my fault, a voice cut through my agony and made me pause. "Having fun?"

I looked, sharply, to the source of the voice, and once I'd registered who it was, froze. Draco Malfoy was resting against a tree, inspecting his nails as though the world was perfectly at ease. His light blonde hair reached his ears and hung in his grey eyes, which glanced at me, causing the corner of his mouth the lift in a smirk.

Without hesitation, or really thinking of what I was doing, I grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands and pinned him, hard, against the tree.

As I've mentioned in the past, Draco Malfoy and I were indifferent acquaintances. His family and my family were cordial with one another, and more than once had the Malfoys come round to ours for dinner, and vice versa. I despised Slytherins on principle, but Draco had never done me any harm and so I usually ignored him - until now, that was.

He was taller than me, and so looked down, startled, as I slammed him into the trunk of the tree. He tried to struggle, but I had a firm grip, and so in the end he just gave up and merely glared at me. "What's _wrong_ with you, Paisley?"

All of the memories of his faults rushing back to me, I scowled. "You! You thought you could just get away with everything, and I'd forget? You nearly messed up my life completely, you pale prat!"

"I have absolutely no idea what you're on about. I've not seen you since -"

"Yes you do!" I protested, angrily. "You gave Polly that Polyjuice Potion! Not only did you come close to killing her, but you came close to losing me my best friends. Don't act innocent, you Slytherin -"

"Killing Polly?" he asked, raising a slim eyebrow. "You mean your Muggle sister?"

"_Step_-sister," I corrected, somewhat sulkily. I hated it when people got it wrong.

"Whatever," he dismissed, finally pulling himself from my grip and smoothing down his clothes. "I only gave her the potion because she asked for something to make her look like somebody else. I didn't know why she needed it. How is that nearly killing her?"

"It's poisonous to Muggles, you git!" I growled, even though I was beginning to see that he couldn't be faulted for much more than naivety. "If you're going to break the law and give a Muggle a potion, at least make sure it's safe for them! She had to go to St. Mungo's!"

"How would I know it would poison her? She shouldn't have been so stupid to ask for it. What did she want it for, anyway? Why did you accuse me of nearly losing you your friends?"

"Never mind," I snapped, pulling my dressing gown further around me. He looked affronted at my sharpness, but we were suddenly interrupted by further cries from the campsite. I moved closer to him, without thinking. "What's going on out there?"

"Hmm." He inspected me, as though wondering how much to trust me. Then, he shrugged. "Death Eaters. You-Know-Who's old supporters and all that."

I blinked. "How d'you know that?"

"Everybody knows what they look like," he sniffed, haughtily. "People were screaming about it earlier, too. You'll be fine, I wouldn't worry. It's only blood traitors and Mud-"

"Don't use that word," I hissed, angrily, colouring. "You Slytherins really are all the same, aren't you? Stuck up, arrogant, prejudice pigs, who can't be arsed to -"

"Is everything okay?" came a concerned, male voice from behind us. We both turned, me feeling increasingly on edge, but the moment I saw the speaker I relaxed, and flushed. Cedric Diggory.

"Everything is fine," I smiled, suddenly feeling a lot safer, and moving towards him, away from the Slytherin. His dark hair was tousled from sleep and he, too, was wrapped in a dressing gown. He looked invitingly warm, but I quickly attempted to banish such thoughts from my mind. "How are you? Any idea what's going on?"

"I'm alright, just tired," he smiled, running a hand through his dark hair. "My dad talked about Death Eaters -" Draco make a satisfied noise at this "- and he's gone to try and stop them with other people from the Ministry. Where are all the Weasleys? I thought you'd be with them."

I noticed his eyes lingering suspiciously on Draco, and quickly explained. "I got separated from them. I bumped into Draco here a couple of minutes a go, but I have no idea where Fred or George or the rest are. I didn't really want to stay out in the open."

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Cedric mused, crossing his arms and shuddering. "God, it's freezing, isn't it? Should we go and try to find somewhere warm?"

"Might as well," I shrugged, feeling pretty cold myself. I glanced at Draco, questioningly. He was hardly in my good books, but I'd feel a little guilty leaving him alone in the middle of the forest. "You coming?"

"I suppose so," he sighed, looking perfectly composed despite the temperature. "Lead on."

Cedric shrugged and smiled at me, holding out a hand. I hesitated, and he withdrew it, frowning slightly. "Everything okay?"

"Y-yes, it's just -"

"You're not still awkward about that night we got drunk, are you?" he asked, looking uncertain. I shook my head, even though I was a lying a little bit, and his expression cleared slightly. "Okay. No holding hands, though? I guess you don't like -"

"I'm kind of, well." I paused, and then looked him straight in the eye. "I'm kind of dating Fred Weasley now."

His eyes widened, and I heard Draco clear his throat next to us. He probably wanted us to get a move on, but neither of us spared him a glance. Cedric stared at me a moment longer, and then looked at the ground. "You're dating Fred Weasley."

"Yeah," I said, slowly, and then blinked, coming to my senses. Hearing somebody else say it, well… I couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, I am."

"Ah," he nodded, looking now across the forest, and beginning to walk, slowly. "Well. I had kind of guessed that you. Well. That's good, I'm very glad for you both."

"Thanks," I murmured, running a hand through my tangled hair, and then reaching out for him. I placed a hand on his shoulder, and he turned round, looking hopeful and hurt and resigned all at once. Something squirmed painfully inside. "Look, Cedric, I'm really sorry if -"

"Claudia!" came a breathless, anxious voice, and I looked over Cedric's shoulder to see - much to my relief - Fred, George and Ginny rushing towards me. I took my hand off of Cedric and offered him a small, sad smile, which he barely returned. Fred pulled me towards him once he'd reached us, hugging me tightly.

"God, I don't think I've ever been so worried," he said, letting out a shaky breath. Then he withdrew, frowning slightly. "Never do that again, Miss Paisley, or there will be serious consequences."

"Never do what?" I asked, though I was grinning. "I fell over and then you were nowhere in sight. Hardly my fault."

"Still! You nearly gave me a heart attack. I was so -"

"Yes, yes, he was very worried," George sighed, rolling his eyes. "You should of heard him going on. It was though you'd been kidnapped or something, honestly."

Fred laughed, relaxing. "I wasn't that bad at all."

"Where are Ron, Harry and Hermione?" I asked, suddenly, noticing their absence. "I thought they were with you."

"We thought they'd be with you!" Ginny explained, looking terrified. "You don't think they've gotten lost, do you? They could be anywhere! We should split up and -"

"They walked through here a few minutes ago," Draco said, sounding bored, and everybody looked at him in surprise. "They were going to hide Granger because the Death Eaters would probably target her if they saw her. You know, what with her being a -"

"Yes, yes, let's not get back into that," I interrupted, hastily, as the twins bristled indignantly. "I guess they're just deeper in the woods, so I'm sure they're perfectly safe. I reckon we should wait here, they're bound to come back this way to the campsite eventually. It probably won't be a good idea to go too deep ourselves though, in case we get lost."

"I guess," Fred agreed, and everybody nodded. Then, he looked at me, smirking mischievously. "Since when did you get so sensible?"

"Well," I retorted, pushing him. "We can hardly depend on you, can we?"

He shook his head, laughing, and then pressed a kiss to my lips. I kissed back, smiling into it, and slipped my hands around his neck. His found the familiar place around my waist, and he pulled me closer. I could feel many exasperated exclamations at this, and so pulled back, giggling.

Wait, giggling? When did I become such a bloody _girl_?

"I wonder how the Ministry are getting on?" Cedric asked, pointedly looking away from the pair of us, and his talking seemed to alert Fred to his presence. He tensed, and took my hand protectively, glaring coolly at the brown-haired boy. Cedric raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, looking ready for a challenge. "What's wrong, Weasley?"

"Oh, nothing," Fred replied, rather stiffly. "I'm just wondering what you were doing in the middle of a forest with my _girlfriend_."

"Fred," I cut in, sharply. "We were just -"

"We're friends," Cedric replied, unconcernedly, inspecting his nails. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"She can be friends with whoever she likes," Fred snapped, eyes narrowed, "but if you try anything more, then I'll -"

"You'll what, exactly?" Cedric asked, loudly, flaring up. "Hex me? I'd like to see you try."

"Oh, would you?" Fred snarled, pulling his wand from his pocket.

"What the hell?" I asked, swiping it from his hand and putting my hands on my hips. "When you two have _quite finished_. Fred, Cedric and I are friends and I'm afraid that that's not going to change for you, and please don't call me '_she_' when I'm right next to you."

Cedric smiled, whilst Fred muttered sulkily, and so I rounded on the taller boy, too. "We may be friends, Cedric, but provoking Fred isn't going to get you any favours, you know. I know things are a bit awkward now, but can't you please both just -"

I was cut off, suddenly, by an outbreak of screams in the woods around us, and so shut up quickly. Fred's hand around mine tightened, and he pulled me closer to him. I didn't try to resist, instead looking around to try and see the problem.

"Up there!" Draco exclaimed, pointing towards the sky.

Everybody's eyes followed his gaze, to see a huge, green, smoky shape against the black of the sky. I squinted at it, trying to place it, when Draco breathed, "That's the Dark Mark."

"The Dark Mark?" George asked, looking unusually grave. "You don't mean You-Know-Who's sign, do you?"

"Yeah," Draco replied, looking unnerved for the first time.

"Don't Death Eaters shoot that up when someone's been killed?" Cedric asked, paling. "What if - you don't think that anyone's been hurt, do you"

"Maybe," I said, nervously, casting a glance round to see many pale, scared faces. "Shall we go back to the tents? If the Mark is in the forest, we might be safer there."

"Sounds like a good idea," Cedric nodded, and we all cautiously made our way back to the campsite. Everybody was silent, and I assumed they were all thinking the same as I was; who was hurt? What if somebody was dead? What if it was somebody we knew? The thought was too horrible to bear, and so I did my best to banish it from my mind.

As we reached the edge of the forest, we came to a halt. Cedric was in another campsite to us, and Draco probably was, too. Draco smoothed back his light hair from his face, and glanced at us.

"Well," he said, swallowing quite heavily. "I assume I'll see you all at school. About your sister, Paisley…"

"What?" I asked, more distractedly than aggressively.

He started to say something, then paused. "I'm sure she'll be fine."

With that, he turned on his heel, and hastily made his way back to wherever he'd been staying. Next, Cedric shook himself, and ran a tired hand over his face. "I'd best be off too. I'll feel safer with my wand with me, anyway. I'll see you all in a few days. Bye, Claudia."

"See you," I replied, smiling a little nervously, and everybody murmured a similar goodbye. Once he had left, we carried on our worried journey back to the tent. I was sorry to see Cedric go; his presence was a comforting one, and I'd felt a little more safe around him. Fred, however, compensated for it quite well, and I felt a lot braver than I usually would with him by my side.

The campsite was quite now, with people scattered here and there looking worriedly over at the forest, and the Death Eaters were nowhere in site. We reached our tents quickly, to find them empty, which caused my stomach to squirm horribly. I'd hoped that Ron, Hermione and Harry would be here, or any of the other Weasleys. George helped Ginny into her tent, as she was getting rather upset, and then looked back at us. He smirked, despite the worry present in his eyes. "I'll give you two a moment."

"Thanks," Fred laughed, causing George to wink and then disappear after his sister. Fred sighed, heavily, and stared over at the forest. The Dark Mark was still there, shining and ghastly, and a cluster of people were at the edge of the forest, trying to see what was happening.

"I know I've said this a lot, recently," Fred said, suddenly, causing me to look at him, "but I'm - well, I sound like a prat, I know - but I'm happy we finally got our act together and all that."

"You do sound like a prat, yeah," I sighed, happily, a warm feeling spreading through me. "But, well, you're my prat, aren't you?"

"Yeah," he grinned. He let go of my hand, instead putting a few fingers underneath my chin and tilting my face up towards him. Before I could react, he'd pressed his lips to mine, gently, and all thoughts of asking what he was doing dissolved from my mind, replaced by a nice, content feeling. I ran my hands through his red hair, kissing him back, and teasing open his mouth to deep the kiss. He made a small noise of happiness or relief or contentment, and slipped his arms once more around my waist, pulling me closer against him.

He pulled back, slightly breathless, and smiled. "I never thought I'd sound like such a git, but. Well. I love you, Claudia."

I couldn't say it back, not yet. The feelings got stronger everyday, but I had no idea if it was love or just a strong crush. I hated not to reply in words, and so instead kissed him more passionately. I felt him smile into the kiss, and so pulled back, instead nestling my head into his shoulder.

"You're so lovely," I whispered, and closed my eyes, knowing I'd be strong enough to face whatever horrors the night might bring.

x

It was the last night of August, and I was stood in the bathroom, running a brush through my hair.

I couldn't believe I'd be back in school at the same time the next day, and the thought didn't exactly make me jump with joy. School would mean homework, Cedric, Quidditch, lessons and early mornings. Whilst it would be nice to catch up with Lee (even if it meant he'd be having stern words with Fred), I wasn't looking forward to trying and get through sixth year with my bad grades and my lack of motivation in the homework department.

The whole school would soon find out about Fred and I, too, but that wasn't such a bad thing. I didn't know if people would even care past being happy for us, but it would be strange walking the corridors hand in hand. Let alone seeing McGonagall's face. Now _that_ would be a funny sight.

I remembered myself at the beginning of the summer, and smirked. If I'd had any idea what agreeing to staying with the Weasleys would bring, I don't think I'd have believed it. A conniving step-sister, a beautiful, nasty shop assistant, a drunken kiss with the heartthrob of Hogwarts, a broken leg, and then, to top it all off… a boyfriend.

Fred Weasley.

I smiled a little as I thought of our relationship. Things could only go up, surely. He was lovely and sweet and funny and said he actually _loved_ me, and I was feeling happier with it all with every day that passed. I was pretty sure we were in it for the long-run, and I told myself that I was going to do everything I could to ensure things didn't fall apart.

Glancing once more in the mirror, I stuck my tongue out at my reflection, and then left. It was my last night here, and I felt sad to be leaving the place, but at least the summer had been interesting.

Scratch that. This summer at The Burrow had been just about brilliant, and I hoped things could only get better.

x

**A/N:** Wahey! It's over! Well, not completely. I'm going to start working on the sequel, _Of Boys and Broomsticks_, very soon, and so expect the first chapter up sharpish. Thank you to everybody who has ever reviewed, you've all been so lovely to me, and without you I wouldn't have got to the end.

Stay tuned. Things are far from over for Hogwarts' newest couple.

x


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